Deans, Dreams and Troubadours
by ReluctantRavenclaw
Summary: Sam Winchester wakes up from a scarily vivid dream at the same time Dean finds a case in some sleepy little town called Stars Hollow; the very same town Sam dreamed he was an ordinary kid (named Dean of all things) in. Determined to find out just what the hell is going on here, the brothers hit the road...Set during Season 3 of Supernatural, and one year after Gilmore Girls ended
1. Chapter 1

'Rise and shine, Sammy!'

Sam jerked awake, sitting bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily as though he'd just run a great distance as he tried to disentangle himself from the twisted bedclothes. Blinking away the last traces of sleep from his eyes, he saw his brother sitting on the threadbare sofa, tapping away at a laptop balanced precariously on his knees. _My_ laptop, Sam noted with a faint hint of irritation. Any other time he would have made some crack about Dean using his computer to look up his favourite, uh, _unsavoury_ sites first thing in the morning, but not now. Not today. Truth was, they were running out of time, and both brothers were only too painfully aware of this fact. The Colt was gone, snatched out of their grasp by Bela, even Ruby hadn't shown her face in weeks, and Bobby had no leads on how to get Dean out of his deal. It was like everyone had given up and resigned themselves to the fact that Dean was going to Hell in a matter of months, weeks even. Sam knew he ought to take comfort in, and enjoy, the fact that he was still waking up to the sight of his brother because, in the blink of an eye, all this would be gone unless he came up with a way to fix it. But this morning, something was different, something was off. Not with Dean, but with Sam. He shut his eyes tight, trying to remember it something untoward had happened the night before. And then it struck him; the dream...

'You planning on staying in bed all day, Sam?' Dean smirked.

He never used to be much of an early riser, that was always Sammy's gig when they were kids, but things were different now. All things considered, he wasn't sleeping too well lately. Instead, he'd wake up at all kinds of impossible hours and while away the time reading Dad's journal for the hundredth time, or looking up potential cases. Anything to keep his mind off the inevitable. He let Sam sleep on though; no sense in them both sitting up and the kid was worried enough about this whole thing during his waking hours without disturbing his sleep too. Even still, Dean had his limits, and 8am or not, he needed his breakfast.

'Sam? Come on, dude, shake a leg. I'm practically wasting away over here.'

When his brother seemed intent on delaying breakfast for as long as humanly possible, Dean sighed loudly, all for Sam's benefit of course, and made a show of pointedly setting the laptop aside. When he finally got a good look at his little brother, however, all thoughts of joking and messing around flew instantly from his mind. Sam looked terrible, pale with dark circles under his eyes like he'd been the one awake all night, though Dean knew he'd gotten a solid seven hours, if not more.

'Hey, Sam, you ok?' Dean asked, frowning slightly.

'I - what?' Sam said by way of reply, clearly distracted as he ran his hands through his long, overlong in Dean's opinion, hair. 'Did you say something?'

Dean's frown deepened. 'Uh, yeah,' he said. 'I asked if you were ok. Man, someone definitely isn't firing on all cylinders this morning.'

'I'm fine,' Sam insisted, though he remained where he was, sitting bolt upright and making no attempt at movement.

'Yeah, 'cause you look just peachy,' Dean scoffed. 'Seriously, Sam, you aren't hungover, are you? We only had, like, two beers last night. Now I've always said you couldn't hold your liquor, but even for you-'

'This isn't a hangover,' Sam muttered irritably.

'Well then, up and at 'em. I found us a case and I want to get some breakfast before we hit the road.'

'Yeah, breakfast, yeah. Sounds good.'

'Sam?'

'Yeah?'

'You planning on getting out of this bed for this good sounding breakfast? I can't see a classy joint like this doing room service, somehow.'

'What?'

'Seriously, Sam, what's going on with you?' Dean asked, coming to sit on his own bed, facing his, clearly very disturbed, brother. 'Are you feeling ok?'

Sam raised his head to look at Dean. 'I'm ok, I guess, I just had a strange dream and it weirded me out. That's all.'

Dean rolled his eyes. Of course Sam would get his panties in a twist over some stupid dream. He stood up and was halfway into his leather jacket, ready to go for breakfast with or without Sam, when the obvious suddenly occurred to him. He was back by Sam's side in an instant. 'Wait - a dream? Not like, not like one of _your_ dreams? I thought all that psychic crap stopped when Yellow Eyes bit the dust?'

Sam actually smiled at that, or at least stopped grimacing for a second. 'Nah, you're right. It was just a dream. Vivid though.'

'Ok then.' Dean stood up and pulled his other arm through the sleeve of his jacket in another failed attempt to rally Sam to action. Recognising defeat, however, he sat back down, sighing loudly as he abandoned all attempts at patience. 'What, Sam, you want to write about it in your dream journal, huh?'

'Shut up, Dean.'

'No seriously, if it freaked you out that much, then tell me about it.'

'Seriously?' Sam raised an incredulous eyebrow.

'Quicker you get started, quicker you get finished, quicker we can get breakfast. I'm thinking the diner down the street we went to yesterday. You know, the one with the great pancakes and the waitress with the really big-'

'Yeah, ok, I get the picture,' Sam cut in quickly before Dean could launch into a long tirade. Once he got started on his passions, namely food and women, there'd be no stopping him. 'Ok, so in this dream, it was like I was me, but I wasn't me, like I was living somebody else's life, you know?'

'No,' Dean answered truthfully. 'But go on. What was so weird about it?'

'Just how vivid it was. It was like I really was there, being this guy, living his life or whatever.'

'So you were like some Bizarro World Sam Winchester, is that it?' Dean asked lightly, attempting to inject some humour into the situation before Sam freaked out completely.

'That's the thing, it wasn't me,' Sam replied, looking almost sheepish for some reason. 'In this dream, or whatever, I was called...' he trailed off, looking distinctly embarrassed now.

'Did you dream you were a chick?' Dean grinned. 'It's ok, you can tell me, Samantha, I won't judge.'

Sam didn't even bother to reply, but carried on like Dean hadn't spoken. 'In this dream, it was like I was some guy named, uh, Dean.'

Dean didn't even try to hold in his laughter. 'So even in your dreams, you wish you could be me?' he smirked.

'No,' Sam shot back at once. 'I wasn't you. I was some other guy called Dean. Dean Foster, or Forrester. Something like that.'

'And what did this _Dean_ guy get up to?'

'Would you stop smiling at me like that? I didn't dream that I was you, ok?'

'Fine. What did you dream about then?'

'Well, he, I, whatever, was just this ordinary kid. He went to school, and played hockey in some small town.'

'So not a hunter?'

'Definitely not a hunter. I think I, he, worked in like a grocery store or something.'

'Sounds interesting. I mean, grocery stores and hockey games? Riveting stuff, Sam, really.'

Sam, apparently, didn't see the humour in this. 'Shut up, Dean, it's not like I can control what I dream about, right?'

Dean held up his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. 'Hey, no need to get all defensive, dude, I'm just saying. Where there any chicks to liven up this dream?' He couldn't control his grin when Sam looked embarrassed again and immediately averted his gaze. 'You've been holding out on me, Sammy! You didn't tell me it was one of _those_ dreams.'

'It wasn't one of those dreams,' Sam scowled, despite the embarrassed flush now blazing his face.

'So did this Dean guy have a hot cheerleader on the sidelines of his hockey games?' Dean grinned, clearly enjoying himself. 'You know, with one of those little skirts, waving her pompoms in the air-'

'She wasn't like that!' Sam snapped, surprising both Dean and himself with the sharpness of his tone.

'Jeez, Sam, lighten up. It was only a dream, right?' Dean frowned, suddenly not enjoying their little conversation anymore.

'Sorry,' Sam apologised quickly. 'It just felt real. That's all.'

Dean's expression softened somewhat, but he couldn't help retorting, 'Yeah, I know. You've already said, like, ten times.'

Silence fell between the two, before Dean cleared his throat loudly. 'I think I found us a case,' he offered, gesturing towards the abandoned laptop on the sofa.

'Great. Give me the details,' Sam said at once, hoping his enthusiasm didn't sound too feigned.

Glad of an apparent return to normality, Dean went to retrieve the computer and began to read aloud extracts from local news websites. Sam, however, was only half listening. As he swung his legs out of bed and pulled a crumpled shirt on over yesterday's t-shirt, he couldn't stop himself from thinking over the details of the dream. It had all seemed so real. _She_ had seemed so real. He knew Dean would laugh if he said aloud how sweet she had seemed, how funny and quirky and smart she was. In his mind's eye he could see her in a fancy school uniform, in a blue dress for an ill-fated school dance, going off to college to conquer the world. Man, she was smart. She could run rings around him with her eyes closed and all those books she'd read...All at once, Sam came to his senses and internally scolded himself for behaving like some lovesick teenager, all over some girl he'd never even met, some girl who wasn't even _real_, he corrected himself firmly. No matter how much he'd felt like some forlorn teenager in love, or how real the object of his affections had seemed, it was all a dream. There were far more worrying and pressing concerns at hand than some made up girl he had a dream about. That in mind, he hastily out the dream out of his head and instead focused his attention entirely on Dean.

Dean, apparently, didn't notice that Sam's mind had been somewhere else entirely, but he'd been busy reading out the details of their latest case.

'So we'll grab a bite to eat, hit the road and we'll be there by lunchtime,' he finished, closing the laptop. 'It's close enough, just a couple of hours drive.'

'We're staying in Connecticut?' Sam asked. 'You've been wanting to leave since the second we got here.'

'Believe me, it's not my first choice. If I had a say, then every supernatural son of a bitch would be haunting Vegas and we'd never have to leave, but seeing as we're in the neighbourhood, can't hurt to have a look, right?'

'If you say so,' Sam shrugged, beginning to stuff his clothes from the day before into his duffel.

'Yeah, well, I do say so. Now get a move on, I'm starved.'

As like most mornings these days, Sam was filled with the overwhelming feeling that there was more they could be, _should_ be doing. They should be looking for the Colt, tracking down Bela, anything that might get Dean out of his deal, not helping another nameless, thankless town from a ghost problem. He opened his mouth to voice these concerns as he did every morning, but Dean, sensing what he was about to say, intercepted him before Sam could get even a word out.

'Sam, we've been over this,' he said, patiently enough, but there was a kind of firm insistence to his voice that signalled the end of discussion.

'But, Dean-' Sam tried again, but he was hastily cut off.

'But nothing,' Dean said firmly. 'I know you don't like it. Hell, I don't like it much myself, but what else can we do? We don't know where Bela is, and since that bitch took the Colt with her, then that leaves us pretty much out of options, right?'

'We're going to get you out of this, Dean.' Sam said, his voice suddenly infused with a confidence he certainly didn't feel. 'I mean it.'

'Yeah,' Dean said lightly, giving a casual shrug. 'Maybe. But not today. Today we're paying the good people of Stars Hollow a little visit to see if we can't sort out the trouble they're having. Kapesh?'

Sam made some kind of response as he zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, casting a quick eye round the room to make sure he hadn't left anything behind which, of course, he hadn't. They'd been in and out of enough motel rooms over the years, and made an impressive number of quick night time escapes, in order to make both of them masters of the quick pack-and-go. He left Dean to check them out and waited by the car. Maybe he was still a little preoccupied, or maybe Dean was right and he really wasn't firing on all cylinders, but he slid into the passenger seat as usual, like Dean hadn't mentioned anything unusual. It wasn't until Dean slid his favourite cassette tape in and pulled out of the motel parking lot that it finally clicked in Sam's mind.

'What's the place we're going to?' he asked slowly.

'Huh?' Dean asked over the deafening din now blaring from the speakers. 'You say something?'

Sam shut off the stereo with one deft motion, ignoring Dean's outraged expression and cry of, 'Dude! You know the house rules!'

'Never mind that,' Sam said sternly. 'Where are we going?'

'I already told you,' Dean muttered irritably. 'Some small town in Connecticut, remember? I don't remember the name, just that it was something stupid.'

'Stars Hollow?' Sam suggested quietly.

'Got in one, Sammy!' Taking a sideways glance at Sam's suddenly horrified expression, and completely misunderstanding it, he added, 'I know, man. Told you it was some stupid name. I don't know what it is with these small towns. Would it kill them to have a normal name that doesn't make you want to puke when you hear it?'

'That's where my dream happened,' Sam said in a low voice. 'That's where I dreamt that I, that Dean guy, lived.'

Dean frowned slightly, but when he spoke, his voice was surprisingly light and calm. 'Really? Huh. Some coincidence, right?'

'You think this is just a coincidence?' Sam burst out, both his frustration and his temper rising. 'I have a dream about this place, the most real, vivid dream I've ever had by the way, and then you just happen to find us a case there? You don't think that's just a little weird?'

'Yeah, I think it's weird,' Dean cut in quickly. 'But, Sam, you need to calm-'

'What if it's a trap?' Sam asked, his mind now racing in a hundred different directions as he tried to formulate a theory. 'What if, I don't know, my psychic stuff's coming back and I'm having visions again? What if this is something to do with Yellow Eyes?'

'The Yellow Eyed Demon is dead,' Dean said firmly. 'I shot that son of a bitch myself. And you remember what Dad said - the Colt kills anything. Yellow Eyes is dead. End of story.'

'Well, something's going on here,' Sam insisted, 'and I intend to find out what.'

'Sam, listen, this isn't an important case, alright? It's just some spook causing trouble, a pissed off spirit, or a poltergeist at the very most, no big deal. I only suggested it because we were nearby. The news report said that nobody had even gotten hurt, a couple of locals just got a scare, so there's no rush. I can make some calls, get some other hunters to sort it out, and we can go on someplace else.'

'We can't just leave, Dean!' Sam said incredulously. 'We have to check this out. Period.'

Dean rolled his eyes. 'Fine,' he said at last. 'Fine! We'll check it out, but the second something weird comes up concerning you and your weirdo dreams, then we're out. Understand?'

'Understood,' Sam said quickly. 'But something's going on, Dean, I can feel it.'

'Whatever,' Dean shrugged. 'Now, if it's alright with you, we're going to get some breakfast.'

'I'm not hungry,' Sam said truthfully; now that it seemed the events of his dream were coming to life in a way, he suddenly felt too nervous and anxious to entertain even the thought of food. And, anxious as he was to see just what the hell was going on, he couldn't deny that there was a little shred of excitement hidden in there too. It had been a damn good dream, for the most part at least.

'Course you're not,' Dean muttered.

'But I'll wait for you,' Sam offered. 'You can go ahead, I don't mind.'

Dean actually laughed at that one. 'Please. How could I enjoy my food with you staring at me and checking the clock every two seconds? I guess I'll just grab something there.'

'Thanks,' Sam smiled. 'I owe you one. The food's on me later.'

'You bet your ass you owe me one,' Dean said gruffly, but he was smiling. 'Can't believe I let you talk me out of breakfast. This Sleepy Hollow place better have some good food, that's all I'm saying.'

'Stars Hollow,' Sam corrected.

'Like it matters,' Dean said, turning on the stereo again, though he kept the volume low, perhaps so that his continuing litany was still perfectly audible. 'Didn't even get my coffee this morning, Sammy. How's a dude supposed to function without coffee, huh?'

Sam raised his eyebrows, unable to suppress a small smile as the events of his dream replayed themselves in his mind. 'Don't worry, man, I'm willing to bet you can find plenty of good coffee in Stars Hollow.'


	2. Chapter 2

_He wasn't too enthusiastic about moving from Chicago to Stars Hollow. Admittedly, it wasn't like sixteen year old boys got enthusiastic about a lot of things, but moving to the small Connecticut town definitely wasn't up there. On the long, seemingly never-ending car journey, his Mom and Dad went on and on about what an amazing opportunity this was going to be for all of them. Dean wasn't too sure. He'd lived in Chicago all his life; all his friends were there, and his grandparents, and his school and Beth. They'd split up just a couple of weeks before the move, and he'd sort of hoped they might get back together or at least stay good friends, but there was no chance of that now, was there? Maybe it was for the best, or at least that was what his parents kept saying. _

_Stuck in the back of the car for hours on end, he'd been dozing with his head against the window when a sharp nudge in the side jerked him awake._

_'Dean! Look, we're here!' His little sister, Clara, was practically jumping up and down in her seat. 'Dean! Look!'_

_'I'm looking,' he said fondly. _

_'Look at all the trees, and the pumpkins! It's like a fairytale!' Clara cried excitedly, pointing out each thing as they passed. 'We're going to have so much fun here!'_

_'Sure we are,' Dean agreed, but Clara didn't seem convinced._

_'You don't sound excited,' she pointed out, but a second later, she got too distracted to pursue the subject. 'Look at all the fairy lights, and it isn't even Christmas!'_

_'I am excited,' he insisted. 'Really!' he added when Mom turned round to peer at him concernedly from the front seat. _

_'I've had an idea,' Mom said thoughtfully, 'why don't you two explore for a little while and we'll go pick up the keys. You can meet us back at the town square in a half hour, ok?'_

_'But what if we get lost?' Clara asked, fearful all of a sudden._

_'I promise we won't get lost,' Dean smiled. 'And look how small this place is, I bet you couldn't get lost even if you tried.'_

_That being said, he still hung on tight to Clara's hand once they'd clambered over the suitcases in the backseat and spilled out into the town square. _

_'Come on, Dean, I bet we can find a playground round here somewhere!' Clara exclaimed, tugging hard on his hand._

_'Hey, cool your jets!' he laughed, tightening his grip on her hand to stop her running off in the opposite direction. 'Mom told us to go exploring, so we'll go exploring, ok?'_

_'But if we find a playground?'_

_'Then I promise you can go play for a little while.'_

_They walked along the little seats with the Fall leaves literally falling down around them, and even Dean had to admit that the whole town looked like a picture postcard. Whether or not that was necessarily a good thing remained to be seen. They passed a disconcertingly large number of stores entirely devoted to ceramic animal figures, which of course delighted Clara to no end, and a grocery store, and what looked like a strange cross between a hardware store and a restaurant. Clara insisted they stop outside a little bakery so she could take a good look at all the cakes in the window, and practically pressed her nose up against the glass to get a better look. Dean couldn't drag her away and they stayed so long in the end that a sweet little old lady he assumed to be the owner came out with a bag of cookies. _

_'Here you are, dear,' she smiled, patting Clara fondly on the head._

_'We were just looking...' Dean tried in vain to protest, but the old lady ignored him and pressed the cookies into Clara's hands. He felt in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a handful of change but she waved him away._

_'My treat, dear,' she said kindly. 'I haven't seen you two kids around here before,' she commented. 'Are you here on vacation?'_

_'We just moved here,' Clara said thickly through a mouthful of cookie. 'Our Mom and Dad are getting the keys to our new house.'_

_'Well, isn't that just swell. Make sure and bring your parents round to the bakery soon. I'd love to meet them.'_

_'We will,' Dean assured her. 'Come on, Clara, say thank you.'_

_Once the lady had disappeared back into the bakery, Dean moved Clara along, steering her by the shoulders since her hands were otherwise occupied. Checking his watch, Dean decided they should be heading back, and Clara was too engrossed in her gift from Weston's bakery to put up much of a fight._

_On the way back to the town square, they passed a large, nondescript building at the same minute that dozens of kids began pouring out of its doors, and Dean got his first glimpse of his new school._

_'Look,' he pointed it out to Clara, 'Stars Hollow High.'_

_'That's your new school?' she frowned. 'It looks scary.' _

_'It'll be fine,' he reassured her, but of course, at that moment, two guys tossing a football around got in a violent tussle and a group of kids gathered round them, eager for a fight. So much for that quaint small town charm. 'Let's go meet Mom and Dad,' he said quickly, steering her out of the way. _

_'Are they fighting?' Clara asked worriedly, stowing her bag of cookies into her pocket and out of harm's way. _

_'No, of course not,' Dean lied. 'They're just playing.'_

_It was when they were hurrying back to the town square where Mom and Dad were waiting that Dean saw her, or at least the part of her not obscured by the hefty book she was reading. Moby Dick. He'd never read it, but the sheer size of the novel made his head hurt, never mind its actual contents. She sure was concentrating hard. She didn't look up once during all the commotion and Dean had the feeling that the whole world might collapse around her and she wouldn't even notice until she'd finished her book. Something about her just seemed interesting, like he could tell from ten feet away that she was a hundred times more interesting than Beth and all the girls at his old school put together. _

_Dean felt the sudden urge to go over and speak to her, introduce himself, only he couldn't exactly do that with Clara in tow, could he? And besides, it would be a shame to break her concentration, and she probably wouldn't thank him for it. No, he'd leave it for now, but he would talk to her soon. He was sure to see her round school; they might even share some of the same classes, though he was sure that any Lit class that girl was in would be way beyond him..._

'Sam, we're here. Sam? Hey, earth to Sammy? Anyone home?'

Sam was abruptly jerked away from his vivid, and scarily real, train of thought by the loud and insistent sound of Dean's voice.

'Yeah?' he answered, trying to sound nonchalant.

Dean eyed him warily. 'You with me?' he asked.

'Yes,' Sam insisted, sitting up straight and peering out the window. 'So we're here?'

'We're here,' Dean confirmed. 'Man, would you take a look at this place? I think I'm going to throw up. And what's the deal with all the damn fairy lights?'

'Yeah, I know. Weird, right?' Sam aimed for a haughty, derisive tone that he wasn't quite sure he managed to pull off. Dean certainly didn't look convinced, but for once he didn't pursue the matter; a fact for which Sam was immeasurably grateful for right now.

'You want to find someplace to eat before we get started?' Dean asked. 'You did say that you owed me, but if this job is just so important to you, I guess we could hold off. I mean, I might pass out with hunger before your very eyes, but-'

'Yeah, ok, I get the point,' Sam intercepted before Dean could get much further. 'I'm sure there's a diner down this street.'

'This place doesn't even look real,' Dean muttered as they drove down a street lined with quaint little houses and highly decorative storefronts. 'It's like a film set for one of those stupid chick flicks that you like.'

'I don't like chick flicks,' Sam protested. 'And take a right here.'

'How the hell would you know?' Dean asked. 'You're not saying this is all exactly like your dream, are you?'

'Pretty much,' Sam said quietly as they drove past the town square. The town square where he'd taken his little sister to the winter carnival, stood by a bonfire hand in hand with a girl he loved, held the reception for his freakin' wedding on an uncommonly sunny Fall day...No. _No!_ he told himself firmly. He, Sam, had never been to Stars Hollow in his life. He didn't have a little sister, the only bonfires he'd ever been to were strictly of the salt and burn the bones variety, and he certainly didn't have a wife. End of story. And yet, despite all that, he was feeling the strongest sense of dejá vu that it was possible for one person to feel. He wracked his brains trying to think as Dean broke every one of the many small town speed restrictions that were no doubt in place following Sam's directions. He'd definitely never been here, right? It wasn't the kind of place they were likely to frequent as kids with Dad. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of John Winchester in Stars Hollow, and his Spring Break trips with Jess had never exactly taken them to this neck of the woods.

'None of this is looking familiar to you?' he asked, just to be sure.

'Nope,' Dean confirmed at once. 'Just to you, dude. Sorry.'

'Thought so. And that's us here.'

Dean pulled up outside the building Sam indicated, then frowned. 'Yeah, Sam, I think you've got the wrong place here.'

'I don't,' Sam insisted. 'Now, come on, I thought you were hungry.'

'I am,' Dean agreed, 'but, dude, this is a freakin' hardware store. I don't have any pressing DIY needs right now, but I appreciate your concern.'

'Just trust me, alright?'

Dean rolled his eyes, muttering irritably under his breath the whole time but to give him his dues, he shut off the engine and got out of the car.

'Sam, the sign says William's Hardware,' he pointed out.

'I know, but there are tables and chairs inside, see?'

As Sam pushed open the door to the diner, that sense of dejá vu from earlier came back, only now it was ten times stronger, if such a thing were possible. Everything was exactly as it had been in his dream; the tables, the chairs, the chalkboard with the specials written on it, the man in the baseball cap behind the counter...

He followed Dean to an empty table and sat down, hoping the hand he reached out to grab a menu with wasn't shaking too bad. Man, this was weird. Driving into town, seeing the square and the gazebo had been strange, but this was just downright freaky.

'Coffee?'

The sound of the perky female voice startled him, and he recognised who it belonged to at once. She'd been his science partner in high school, they'd shared a few classes, but more importantly, she was _her_ best friend. And she sounded exactly like she had in the dream; she was an entirely real person. It occurred to him, as Dean accepted the coffee and Sam refused from behind his menu, that he knew all about this girl from his dream, and she had no idea. It wasn't an entirely comfortable feeling by any means, but he knew her name was Lane and she'd gone to Stars Hollow High and she had an incredibly strict mother - he'd been on the receiving end after a perfectly innocent study session. They'd even been on a double date for crying out loud.

No, that _wasn't_ you, Sam corrected himself. Man, this whole thing was getting incredibly complicated.

Only when he'd heard the sound of Lane assuring Dean she'd be back in a minute to take their order did he finally lower his menu, once he was sure she'd left their table for the time being. When he did, however, it was to find Dean staring at him with a most bemused expression on his face.

'What's wrong, Sam? Did the pretty waitress scare you?' Dean grinned.

'You're out of luck, Dean. I'm pretty sure she's married. With kids.'

'How the hell do you know?' Dean frowned.

'Because I know her,' Sam said quietly, watching her behind the counter from out of the corner of his eye. Lane looked exactly the same, a little older and more mature perhaps than the science partner of his dream, but then again, he wasn't exactly sixteen years old anymore either.

'Did she go to Stanford or something?' Dean asked lightly, perusing the menu with great interest. 'Why didn't you say hi?'

'No, she was in my dream!'

Dean rolled his eyes but he didn't set his menu aside. 'Come on, Sam, seriously?'

'Seriously.'

'So, let me get this straight; not only did you have a dream about this town, but now you know every single person in it?'

'Well, not every single person-' Sam began, but Dean apparently was on a roll and there seemed to be no stopping him.

'What about that guy over there?' he asked, indicating an older man sitting at the counter drinking a cup of coffee. 'Was he, like, the hockey coach in your dream, huh?'

Sam followed Dean's line of vision and his eyes widened in surprise. 'That's Taylor Doose,' he said in a whisper. 'He owns the market where I, uh, _Dean_, worked.'

'So you do know everyone,' Dean commented, clearly enjoying this situation far too much. 'What about that dude over there?' he asked. 'If you tell me that he was, I don't know, your brother or something-'

'That's Kirk!' Sam said quietly. 'Man, this is really weird.'

'You're telling me,' Dean scoffed.

'You guys ready to order?' Lane returned to their table, notepad and pen in hand, and Sam hastily looked in the other direction; it wasn't like she was going to know who he was, but even still, it felt incredibly weird to be interacting with her.

Dean prattled off his usual, failsafe order of a cheeseburger and fried and then Lane turned to Sam.

'Anything for you?' she asked.

'Me? Uh, no. Thanks. No thanks,' he stammered, not entirely sure why he was so flustered, but finding himself unable to act calmly.

Maybe his nervous demeanour attracted her attention, because she looked more closely at him, and Sam caught her eye at the exact moment that her eyes widened and she looked incredibly surprised.

'Dean?' she asked, entirely abandoning her job of taking his order.

'Yeah?' Dean replied.

Lane frowned slightly, her eyes darting uncertainly between Sam and Dean. 'What are you doing back here?' she asked, addressing Sam. 'I thought you'd left town for good?'

Sam tried to make some response, he had the words in his head to try and make her believe that she'd completely mistaken him for someone else and he had no idea what she was talking about. These words, however, didn't seem to want to come out. The idea that not only had his dream come true, but the vivid characters of his dream knew and recognised him too, was too much to handle. Thankfully, he had Dean, his brother Dean that was, there to rescue the situation.

'Sorry, lady, I think you've mistaken my brother here for somebody else,' Dean cut in smoothly.

Lane's frown deepened and she continued to look intently at Sam, but she didn't say anything.

'_My_ name's Dean,' Dean continued, 'and this is my brother, Sam. We're just in town for a couple of days.'

'Right,' Lane said slowly, though she didn't sound even a little bit convinced. 'I'll just, uh...' she trailed off and left the table, though she looked back over her shoulder at Sam as she went, and almost walked straight into another table as a result.

'What the hell is going on?' Dean hissed, once he was sure that they'd been left alone.

'I don't know,' Sam muttered, resolutely staring down at the table in case he accidentally caught anyone else's eye.

'No, seriously, what the hell?'

'I don't know!' Sam snapped. 'I'm going to go wait in the car.'

'Well, then, I'll come with you,' Dean offered, pushing his chair back from the table.

'You stay and eat your food,' Sam insisted. 'Honestly. I just need to, uh, clear my head. This is just strange, man, you know?'

'You're sure?' Dean asked.

'Positive.'

'Well, ok, if you're sure. Just don't go wandering off, ok? I don't want to have to go looking for you in this place.'

Sam tried to raise a smile. 'Have you seen how small this place is? I bet we couldn't get lost even if we tried.' His smile instantly dropped as he realised he was echoing almost the exact words from his dream. 'I'll see you soon,' he muttered hastily, and he quickly left the diner, leaving a thoroughly freaked out Dean and his jacket behind in the process.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this second chapter! I'm having a lot of fun writing this, and if you enjoyed, I'd really appreciate reviews, follows and favourites, all of which mean the world to me. I've written a few Supernatural fanfics before, but they've all been pre-series, so this is my first time writing a story that takes place during the series, as well as incorporating Gilmore Girls, for the first time ever. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

_He slouched along the street with his hands shoved deep in his pockets, staring moodily at the ground and trying to pretend that he didn't care. He didn't care that he'd broken up with his girlfriend almost immediately after he told her he loved her. He didn't care that he planned a whole special evening to celebrate their three month anniversary which, in itself, was a big deal for two sixteen year olds. It wasn't like he'd taken her out for a fancy dinner he could barely afford, then showed her the freakin' car he was building her and then told her he loved her. Oh wait. That's exactly what happened, and he still couldn't work out why things had gone wrong. He thought she'd be pleased, or happy at least, to hear that her boyfriend loved her, because he really did. He loved her so much, he was crazy about her, and yet they had broken up. The entire town was treating him like some horrible monster from those old movies they used to watch together, and he hadn't even done anything wrong. It was times like these that he really missed Chicago. In a big city, nobody knew your business, or treated you like dirt because they'd completely misunderstood the situation. _

_On the very next morning after the break up, when everything was still horribly fresh in his mind, Luke hadn't even let him into the diner to get a cup of coffee. He'd physically stopped him from entering the building and then practically tried to beat him up on the street. Even now, a few weeks later, things were still bad. Whenever she saw him passing, Miss Patty would stand at the door to her dance studio and tell her little ballerinas all about the 'perils of floppy haired young men' in a loud, carrying voice. Luke still wouldn't let him anywhere near the diner, Bootsy at the news stand refused to sell him the car magazine he always bought, Gypsy was deliberately vague and unhelpful when he asked for advice on the car he still worked on, in spite of everything. Even old Fran from Weston's who'd been so kind to him and Clara the first day they moved here now ignored him when she saw him in the street. He couldn't escape it even at work, because Taylor spoke to him even more condescendingly than usual, and just yesterday, Lorelai Gilmore, of all people, had come in to yell at him for being, in her mind, the scum of the earth. Even walking home, Kirk had decided to follow him to make sure, as he put it, he didn't go round breaking other innocent girls' hearts._

_It wasn't fair, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could take it, or how much longer he could bear this stupid, backwards, judgemental town. If he could only take to her, hear what she had to say, then they might be able to work things out, but the entire town seemed intent that he never saw her again, like they were deliberately freezing him out. It was his punishment for daring to break the heart of Stars Hollow's darling, even though he hadn't! But this town only saw what they wanted to see and as far as they were apparently concerned, he'd been nothing but trouble since the moment he'd arrived in town. _

_He wasn't sure if he'd be able to bite his tongue much longer; he'd kind of exploded at Lorelai in the market earlier, but really, there was nothing he could do. For now, all he could do was keep quiet, keep his head down for fear of making eye contact in the street in a town where every single disapproving eye was fixed firmly on him._

The thought, memory, recollection or whatever the hell it was came into his mind unbidden as he hurried out of the diner and back towards the Impala. He couldn't help it; a lot of the sentiments were similar, though of course, entirely different in others. While it was true he was avoiding the eyes of the town, it wasn't because he had broken up with his high school girlfriend, but because the town apparently recognised him as Dean Forrester. And if that wasn't enough to freak a guy out, then Sam didn't know what was. He'd take the break up any day over this.

He slid into his usual seat in the car, pulling his laptop out from his backpack and powering it up, thinking all the while. He tried to come up with some rational solution to tie all the ends together; some logical theory to explain why everything he thought he'd dreamed was actually real, and apparently some version of him had lived through it. Even in their line of work, this was weird and Sam was pretty sure they'd never come across something quite like this before. He could check Dad's journal when Dean returned, but he didn't think there was much point. Dean practically had the thing memorised and he'd have said something if this case sounded familiar.

Sam sighed heavily, trying to clear his head. If this was just another case in just another town that he had no connection to, then what would he do? He'd do some research and try to find out what they were dealing with. He'd look up the lore, interview any witnesses, then they'd get the job done. So that's what he should do now, right?

To his surprise, Stars Hollow had apparently gotten a lot more technologically advanced than he remembered from his dream because his laptop quickly picked up a pretty decent internet connection. His fingers hovered hesitantly over the keyboard. Some part of his brain was adamant that this must have something to do with the Yellow Eyed Demon, even though he'd seen the bastard die with his own eyes. Sam knew he ought to be looking up signs of demon activity in the local area - electrical storms, that kind of thing - but instead, he found himself typing a familiar name into the search engine.

Almost immediately, a number of local sites popped up and it was with a feeling of slight trepidation that he clicked on the first one; a Stars Hollow Gazette news report from a few years before.

'Stars Hollow High's Minutemen reach the regional hockey semi-finals for the first time in forty three years,' he read the article's headline out loud. All at once, a surge of memories came flooding back to him. Just like that, he could remember that hockey game in perfect detail. He remembered how they only qualified by default, and how they were spectacularly beaten by the West Hartford Wildcats, and even the number on the back of his jersey. But it definitely wasn't a real memory, just a recollection of the dream, albeit a disconcertingly vivid one. He, Sam, had never been on a hockey team in his life. In fact, he wasn't sure that he'd ever been ice skating, never mind. He scrolled through the article, skimming through all the details that he already knew until he found what he was looking for - the photograph that accompanied it. He spotted himself straight away.

No, _not_ Sam, just a dude who looked like him, participating in an event that he could remember like he'd lived through it. Sam focused hard on the boy in the picture, and checked the caption. Sure enough, there it was: Dean Forrester, just as he thought. In the photo, Dean Forrester, even at eighteen years old, stood head and shoulders above his teammates, and his gangly arms and legs reminded Sam exactly of himself in his last year of high school. Maybe the hair was a little different, definitely more styled, but Dean Forrester still had the kind of hair that would prompt John Winchester to yell at him to get a 'goddamn haircut.' Sam could be looking at a picture of himself, but that was impossible, right?

He knew he ought to start researching this case properly, but the photo had completely unnerved him and yet he couldn't look away. It was like poking a sore teeth with his tongue or prodding a freshly stitched wound; he knew the outcome couldn't exactly be pleasant and still he couldn't help himself. He clicked on the next link.

If he thought finding a hockey team photo was unnerving, then discovering a freakin' engagement announcement was downright uncomfortable. And yet there it was. This time his eyes skipped immediately to the photograph. He saw himself, no, _not, _himself - man, this was getting annoying - with his arms round a tall, pretty blonde girl. One look at the two young, smiling, naive faces brought with it the strangest mixture of emotions; excitement initially, giddy exhilaration, and then uncertainty and doubt and the grave realisation of a big, big mistake. It felt like he was living through the entire experience all over again - no, not again, because he'd _never_ lived through it. It just _felt_ like he had. Apparently he knew what it felt like to get married far too quickly, far too young, only to have that marriage crash and burn because of a lingering first love, and a horrendous mistake.

It was disconcerting to say the least.

Dean watched Sam leave the diner, almost walking into a table as he kept his eyes on the ground, apparently trying to avoid eye contact with anyone, but just looking entirely deranged in the process. He shifted in his seat a little so he could see Sam make it to the car. It wasn't like his little brother was exactly a kid anymore, but he was acting strange - not that Dean could blame him. Truth be told, he wasn't as calm about this whole thing as he'd made himself out to be. He was just about to cancel his order and go and check on Sam when his brother's empty seat was suddenly filled.

'Can I help you there, pal?' he asked the guy currently sitting across from him. Honestly, if this sort of thing was accepted and encouraged in small towns, he was immensely glad not to be a part of one.

'Could you state your business with that man?' Though the guy spoke in an unusually serious, deadpan voice, his request sounded so ludicrous that Dean couldn't help but smirk.

'What's it to you?'' he asked, shifting uneasily as the man continued to stare intently at him.

The man raised his eyebrows incredulously as though Dean was being incredibly, deliberately stupid. 'I'm sort of the eyes and ears of this town,' he said, still more seriously. 'Kind of like a vigilante, if you will.'

Dean almost burst out laughing at the thought of this weedy little guy trying to defend anything. 'Let me guess, you're the hero Stars Hollow deserves, but not the one it needs right now.'

The guy blinked a few times in quick succession, his face a perfect expression of confusion. 'No,' he said at last, and Dean could tell he hadn't the slightest idea what was going on.

'Never mind,' Dean grinned. 'So a vigilante, huh? You got a superhero name, or a cape or something?'

'I used to wear a cape to school,' he said. 'But I haven't worn one since.'

'Well, that's great, buddy, but I'm waiting for my lunch so...'

The guy narrowed his eyes. 'Just state your business and I'll be on my way.'

He could have gone on for ages, stuck in stupid, pointless discussions with the weird little guy, but he figured it was time to get rid of him. In one swift, smooth motion, he pulled his trusted FBI badge out from his inside pocket and flipped it open, before stowing it away again. 'As you can see,' he said, in his most impressive, important tone, 'my business here is strictly confidential. I'm sure you understand.'

'Is that badge real?'

'I - what?' Dean stammered, momentarily wrong footed before he pulled himself together. 'Of course it's real,' he said sternly.

'Oh. I thought it might have been fake.'

'Yeah, well, it's not. And I'm not supposed to discuss such matters with a civilian like you,' he added.

'Kirk.'

'What?' Dean asked, irritated now.

'Kirk. That's my name.'

'And?'

'You said a civilian like me. I thought it was an invitation to state my name. My mistake. Won't happen again.'

'Awesome,' Dean forced out through gritted teeth. This guy - Kirk - was definitely starting to grate on his nerves.

'And that man you were with, is he here on classified business too?' Kirk asked.

Dean, taking a long, much-needed gulp of coffee, nodded in response.

'Or at least, that's the official line,' Kirk muttered under his breath.

'Excuse me?'

'I'm guessing Witness Protection. Am I right?'

'What the hell are you talking about?' Dean asked, trying to keep his voice level with a supreme effort.

'That guy you were with earlier, he used to live here.'

'Pretty sure he didn't,' Dean interjected.

'That's just what he's telling you,' Kirk said conspiratorially, leaning forward, which made Dean feel a little uncomfortable to say the least. 'Used to go by the name of Dean Forrester.'

There it was again - the same name Sam had mentioned back at the motel. Just what the hell was going on here? In his mind, Dean thought about all the scribbled notes in Dad's journal. A djinn maybe? Or some kind of pagan god? Sam was always better at the research and lore side of things, but judging by his behaviour, Dean guessed he was too freaked out to be of much help. With some effort, Dean pulled himself out of his thoughts as he realised that Kirk was still talking to him.

'Doesn't surprise me that he changed his name,' Kirk muttered darkly, and Dean got the impression that this guy was big on the theatrics. 'After everything he did here, I mean.'

In spite of himself, Dean felt a little intrigued. Even though he knew that Kirk was talking about his brother, not really, the idea of someone who at least looked like Sam was getting up to no good was intriguing. Sam had always been such a goody-goody; even the slightly questionable stuff they did on a daily basis was always firmly in the line of duty.

'Why, what did he do here?' Dean asked. 'I mean, this other guy you mistook my partner for?'

'Well,' Kirk leaned in closer, obviously enjoying the situation, 'let's just say he didn't leave here with a lot of friends.'

'What's that supposed to mean?' Dean asked impatiently. 'Small town like this, I thought you'd all be best pals.'

'Don't be fooled by the whimsical exterior,' Kirk said, almost like a warning and again, Dean wondered if anyone could ever take this guy seriously. 'Stars Hollow has a lot of dark secrets.

'Oh I'm sure it does,' Dean said, feeling it would be best to just go along with this whole weird situation. 'Now what about this, uh, Dean guy?'

'Oh yeah, him,' Kirk continued. 'Well, he moved here about eight years ago, so he wasn't born here, you know? And it was pretty obvious he wasn't really part of the town.'

'What, he didn't help to decorate the town Christmas tree?' Dean guessed, trying to imagine the very worst offence this stupid little town could cook up. 'Or what, he didn't, I don't know, dress up like a pilgrim for Thanksgiving?'

Kirk didn't reply immediately, but looked as though he were deep in thought, if such a thing was possible for him to do. 'No, he did help out,' he said at last. 'He worked in Doose's Market too. He worked there for years, started around the same time as me.'

'So you knew him well.'

'I got fired after a week.'

Somehow, that didn't come as a massive shock to Dean.

'I can't really remember why he wasn't part of the town,' Kirk admitted, 'but he definitely wasn't. I know that.'

Dean accepted his burger and fries from the passing busboy and began to eat. It seemed like Kirk was going to be here for a while and no way was he delaying his much needed lunch on this guy's account.

'So he hadn't been here very long when he started making eyes at a local girl.'

Ah, now it was going to get interesting. As he took a large bite of his burger - incidentally, the best burger he'd eaten in a long time - Dean remembered how Sam had nearly bitten his head off at the mention of the girl in his dream. Any girl who could get his prude of a brother that worked up had to be something interesting.

'Ok, so they went all Joanie Loves Chachi, then what happened?'

'I'm more of an I Love Lucy man myself,' Kirk replied.

'Well, that's just peachy, pal, but you were saying?' Dean prompted.

'So they were just your two normal teenagers in love, you know? Picture your favourite rom-com, then dial up the cute.'

Dean rolled his eyes. 'I get the idea. So they're all cute and then what?'

'They broke up.'

'And?'

Kirk frowned. 'And what?'

'Two high school kids break up, it's not exactly the end of the world, right?'

Kirk's frown deepened and he leaned in even closer again, so much so that Dean felt compelled to move back for his own safety. 'He broke that poor girl's heart. I blame myself. I know his type. I should have voiced my concerns earlier.'

Dean raised an eyebrow. 'I'm pretty sure it wasn't your fault,' he said reasonably. 'Or that Dean guy's either.'

'Oh, it definitely was his fault,' Kirk insisted.

'Sure. Right, ok, so that was this dude's massive mistake? He broke up with some chick in high school and you freaks ran him out of town?' Dean smirked, just picturing the scene.

Kirk considered this for a moment. 'I'm pretty sure he did some other stuff too,' he said at last.

Dean finished off the last of his fries and pulled out his wallet. 'Listen, Kurt-'

'Kirk.'

'Right. Kirk. It's been fun talking to you, really, but, uh, I've got official federal business to do, you know?'

'No.'

Dean paused halfway through pulling on his jacket. 'No, what?'

'No, I don't know. I've never had official federal business to do. I've never been a fed. A traffic warden, yes. A dog walker, yes. A DSL installer, yes. A cosmetics salesman, yes. A-'

'Dude, I get the picture. You don't know what it's like to be a fed, ok, but just imagine. You can imagine, right?' Dean said in an incredibly forced calm tone, knowing he couldn't lose his cool in this stupid hardware store-diner hybrid.

'Were you interviewing me?'

Dean could feel his hands curling into tight fists, but he kept them shoved deep in his pockets. 'Listen, man, you came over to my table, remember?'

'Oh yeah. But that was all strictly off the record.'

'I'm not a journalist,' Dean reminded him, leaving a few crumpled bills on the table to pay for his lunch.

'Oh. Good.' Kirk seemed to relax. 'I tried journalism once,' he added conversationally, casually flipping through Dean's abandoned menu. 'Nobody would publish my column though. I called it Ask Kirk. Pretty catchy title, I thought.'

'Awesome.'

'Would you read it?'

'No,' Dean stated simply.

'Oh. Ok, then.'

Leaving the strange little guy behind, Dean made to leave the diner, muttering under his breath at the weirdness of it all. Just as he reached the door, however, he collided with another one of Stars Hollow's, uh, _charming_ residents. Great. Just great.

'Sorry, ma'am,' he said quickly, hoping she would let him go easily.

No such luck, because when was luck ever working in Dean Winchester's favour?

The small, clearly very excitable woman looked him up and down and grinned broadly. 'Don't apologise, sugar!'

'Right, well...' Dean trailed off uneasily, frowning suddenly as he realised she hadn't let go of his arm from their collision.

'What brings you to these parts?' she asked.

Dean cast a slightly longing look back at the Impala. Never had he appreciated the safe sanctuary of his car so much before.

'Business,' he said shortly. It usually wasn't his thing to be deliberately rude, especially to a woman, but desperate times called for desperate measures. 'Sorry, lady, but my partner's waiting for me.'

'Partner? Not your wife, I hope?' she asked, her grip on his arm even tighter as he tried to edge away. Leaning round him, she suddenly called out, in a loud, high pitched yell, 'Patty, honey, hurry up! I got a surprise for you!'

Seconds later, another woman appeared in the doorway, very effectively blocking Dean in and cutting off his escape route.

'Well, well, what have we got here?' she smiled, extending a hand in his direction like she wanted him to kiss it or something. 'Patricia LaCosta, but you can call me Miss Patty. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance...' she trailed off, batting her eyelashes almost expectantly.

'Oh, me? Uh, Dean,' he blurted out, without thinking up some alias.

'Dean, huh?' the first lady repeated. 'We haven't had a Dean round here for a while, have we, Patty?'

'Oh, Babette, I nearly forgot. You'll never guess who I just saw outside sitting in some old rust bucket?'

Somehow, Dean could tell exactly who they were talking about, even if the clearly delusional 'rust bucket' comment physically hurt him.

'Who?'

'Well, I didn't get a good enough look, but I could have sworn that it was Dean Forrester?'

'Dean Forrester?' Babette repeated, looking suddenly gleeful. 'Would you look at that, you wait around for years and then two Deans turn up at once!'

'And let me tell you, he sure did grow up big and strong,' Miss Patty continued.

'Great,' Dean said quickly. 'But I really have to be going-'

'But you just got here!' Patty protested, taking hold of his other arm and forcibly leading him back into the diner. 'Now, come on, sweetheart, you haven't even told us anything about yourself. It's rude to just run out on two ladies, you know.'

With some difficulty, Dean disentangled himself from their vice like grips. 'No offence, ladies, but I'm here on official business, so I really have to be going.'

The two women exchanged equally excited looks.

'Really? What kind of official business would that be?' Babette asked eagerly.

'He's an FBI agent,' Kirk chimed in from across the diner.

'An agent, huh?' Patty smiled.

'Special agent, I'm guessing,' Babette continued.

'Well, by all means, allow us to help you with your investigations, Agent.'

With one last desperate look over his shoulder at the Impala parked outside - so close, yet so far - Dean let the two disturbingly eager women lead him over to an empty table, trying not to think about just how nice it would be to drive away from this nice and never come back. He contented himself with the thought that Babette and Patty might actually know something of what was going on round here.

Well, at least the coffee was good.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam closed his laptop with rather unnecessary force as he checked his watch for what felt like the hundredth time. Where the hell was Dean and what was taking him so damn long to eat a burger and fries? He craned his neck a little, trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of Dean in the diner, but to no avail. He wanted to go in there and drag Dean out if he had to so they could try and work things out, but it wasn't like he could just waltz back in there, right? If Lane's reaction was any indication, then the whole town remembered him as vividly as he remembered any one of them. With a slight grimace, he realised that not everyone would react kindly to seeing him, even if he wasn't exactly who they believed him to be. No matter how he protested otherwise, he looked like Dean Forrester, and that kid hadn't exactly left this town with a whole bunch of friends.

Luke in the diner, for one, wasn't exactly his biggest fan, and Sam figured it was some kind of miracle that the guy hadn't seen him and forcibly ejected them from the diner. He'd been on the receiving end of that before, and it wasn't pretty. True, he wasn't the sixteen year old who incurred the town's wrath by breaking up with his girlfriend, but even still, Luke was far from his best pal. Sam cringed as the last conversation he remembered having with the guy came into his mind.

_'They want more than this. Don't you see that? And all you are is this.'_

_Dean watched a frown crease Luke's face, and yet it did nothing to dispel that feeling in the pit of his stomach; that deep and bitter anger he seemed to carry round with him all the time these days._

_'Rory was a kid, Dean. She grew up. She moved on. Accept it.'_

_And Dean knew that, he really did, of course he did, but was that supposed to make him feel better? He'd been dumped, yet again, by the same girl he'd been in love with for years, the girl he threw away everything for, and now she'd just kicked him to the curb again. His life was a mess, he was back living with his parents, and now he was working three jobs, as well as any extra work Taylor threw his way, just to make ends meet and pay for the divorce. The divorce, the freakin' divorce. He was twenty years old and his marriage had come crashing to the ground. Dean knew he wasn't exactly innocent in the whole thing, but that didn't make it easier. If anything, the fact only served to make him more bitter and sick at heart, and fuelled the harsh words directed at Luke._

_'You accept it. This town, it's all you are, and it's not enough. She's going to get bored and you can't take her anywhere. You're here forever.'_

_He couldn't believe the words he was saying and he knew deep down that he didn't really mean them. In spite of everything, he'd always liked Luke, or at least held a grudging respect for the guy. When all was said and done, they used to be on a softball team together all those years back and Luke, no matter how he felt about him, had looked after him on the night of his bachelor party. Not that he could remember very much, but from what he could surmise the next day and from what Kyle, the only sober one, told him, Luke had given him a bed for the night and an effective, if disgusting, hangover cure the next morning. It was only later he realised that the bed he'd crashed in had once belonged to that little punk, Jess, but he'd been too toasted at the time to understand. _

_'You and me. Same thing.'_

_It was the last thing he said before walking away, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, even though he knew he was wrong. They weren't the same, not at all. Luke had gotten his happy ending with Lorelai, any fool could see that. And Dean, well, Dean just wasn't happy. End of story._

_It was that same evening Dean decided he was going back to Chicago. He'd had more than enough of Stars Hollow._

Sam nearly jumped out of his skin as Dean opened the car door with its familiar, loud creak and sank into the driver's seat, looking thoroughly shell-shocked.

'What took you so long?' Sam asked.

'Dude,' Dean replied in a low tone, his face a perfect expression of complete disgust, 'what the hell is with this town?'

Sam frowned, a little perturbed by just how freaked out Dean was. 'What do you mean? Did something happen in there?'

'Oh yeah, something happened,' Dean said grimly. 'Nothing like that,' he added quickly. 'I'm just going to need a shower and about fifty jello shots to get this town's stink off me.'

It only took a split second for Sam to understand. 'Oh God,' he groaned. 'Let me guess, Miss Patty and Babette got to you, huh?'

A sideways glance was Dean's only response.

'Jeez, man, I'm sorry,' Sam apologised profusely, understanding completely Dean's reaction and the long swig he quickly took from his flask.

'Yeah, well, you should be,' Dean muttered, 'but those two broads were more than willing to spill the beans on _you_.'

'On me?'

'Well, that Dean guy anyway,' Dean reconsidered. 'Who the hell gets married at nineteen?'

'Him. Apparently,' Sam said abruptly, 'but did you find out what was going on around the town?'

'Wow, touchy subject.'

'Shut up.'

Dean smirked. 'I can't believe you broke two girls' hearts. Really, I never knew you were such a lady's man, Sammy. Getting married at nineteen and then cheating on her with the high school girlfriend?'

'Seriously, Dean, leave it. That wasn't me, remember?'

'I know,' Dean grinned, 'but it's fun to imagine it, huh?'

Sam's narrow eyed glare was a more than adequate response.

'Alright, alright,' Dean said hastily. 'They did say that weird stuff's been going on in the last few days, in some hotel or something. Hang on, I wrote the name down.' He fished a napkin out of his pocket and squinted at his scrawled writing. 'The, uh, Dragonfly Inn, I think it says? They told me to ask for the owner, what does that say, Lorelai Gilmore?'

Sam sighed. Of course that was the scene of the case, of course Lorelai was at the centre of it all. Great. Just great.

His reaction clearly hadn't gone unnoticed. 'So, what's the deal with this Gilmore chick? You've practically gone pale, dude, you ok?'

'I'm fine,' Sam said dismissively, 'it's just, well, you know that girl Patty and Babette were, uh, telling you about?'

'Which one?' Dean, it seemed, was unable to help himself.

'The first one,' Sam muttered irritably.

'Wait, the high school girlfriend or the wife?'

_'Dean.'_

'What?' Dean smiled. 'I wasn't sure. But what about her?'

'Well, she's her, _Rory's_, mom,' Sam explained.

Dean frowned. 'Oh. The ex-girlfriend's mom, huh? Awkward.'

'She wasn't _my_ girlfriend, Dean, would you stop saying that? This whole thing's weird enough without you adding to it.'

Dean considered this for a moment. 'Wait a second, isn't Rory a dude's name?'

Sam didn't even deign to answer that.

'Ok, ok, point taken. So this motel, sorry, the _inn_, you up for this one or not?' Dean asked.

Sam sighed heavily. 'What are we looking at?'

'Nothing major. A poltergeist or an angry spook maybe. Any violent deaths round here that you know of?'

Sam actually smiled at that. 'Dean, take a look at this place. Violent deaths?'

'Yeah, you're right,' Dean sighed. 'So what then?'

'I don't know,' Sam shrugged. 'And besides, did you ever hear of a poltergeist or a spirit that could cause the whole dream thing?'

'Nope.'

Sam rolled his eyes. 'We have to go check this out, don't we?'

'Just like any other case,' Dean confirmed. 'Are you gonna be ok with that or do you want to wait in the car again?'

'Let me get back to you on that one.'

Dean shrugged, but made no other reply, a fact for which Sam was immeasurably grateful right about now. He'd had about enough of Dean's wise cracks for one day and he was already feeling weird enough about this whole thing. Going to Luke's diner was one thing, interacting with the people who existed on the periphery of Dean Forrester's life was quite another. Going to the freakin' Dragonfly Inn of all places was a whole other ballgame. Of course Lorelai would recognise him, and Rory, what if she was there too? It was certainly plausible. Sam wasn't actually sure what he was up to these days. By his calculations, she'd be around his age, no longer the teenager he remembered. She might have a job now as the reporter she always wanted to be, off reporting in some remote, exotic location. Or she might be at grad school, earning even more diplomas and credentials. As he considered this, bittersweet memories of Stanford and Jessica and what might have been came surging into his mind, but he hurriedly pushed them away. Musings of that kind never tended to end well and he had more than enough to deal with right now. Namely Rory Gilmore and just what the hell he was going to do if he saw her.

Dean, meanwhile, was squinting at his scrawled on napkin again, trying to decipher his hastily scribbled writing.

'Dude, you still with me?' he asked, abruptly jerking Sam out of whatever reverie he'd fallen into again.

'Huh?'

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew where Sam was coming from, he really did, but the kid's constant spacing out was starting to get on his nerves. 'You're the one who wanted to check this thing out, remember?'

'Yeah, I remember.' Sam shot back, looking annoyed.

'Good. You think you could stay in the here and now?' Dean asked, shoving the crumpled napkin into Sam's direction and turning his eyes back to the road. 'Read that for me, would you? Those women back at the diner gave me directions, but it's just a list of freakin' fruit. I think they were deliberately trying to get me lost in this freak show.'

Sam's sudden smirk did nothing to quell Dean's rising irritation levels. 'The streets are mostly fruit names,' he explained. 'You've got to take a left on Peach, see?'

'You've gotta be kidding me,' Dean groaned but he followed Sam's directions - disconcertingly, Sam seemed to know the way without referring to the napkin once - until they pulled up outside a building that proclaimed itself to be the Dragonfly Inn.

'Not too shabby,' Dean grudgingly admitted. 'I feel like we've ended up on Walton's Mountain though.'

'Goodnight, Grandma,' Sam smirked.

'Shut up, Mary Ellen,' Dean fired back at once.

He looked around at the cheerful yellow exterior and the immaculate window boxes filled with bright flowers. 'It's not one of our usual dives, huh? I bet this place doesn't have the magic fingers.'

'Or pay per view,' Sam piped up. 'I've seen the inside, dude, there's no way we could afford it.'

'You've seen the...' Dean trailed off, deciding he really didn't need to hear any more of his weirdo brother's dream turned reality. 'You're right, _we_ couldn't afford it, but...' Dean fished in his wallet and pulled out his newest credit card, handing it to Sam with a flourish.

Sam rolled his eyes. 'You're still running credit card scams, seriously, Dean?'

'Where do you think our money comes from?' Dean shrugged. 'And besides, I've told you before, Sammy, all I do is apply. It's not my fault they send me the cards.'

'Well you can't use that card in here.'

'Why the hell not?' Dean frowned.

Sam handed the apparently useless credit card back. 'You said our real names back at the diner, didn't you?'

Dean wracked his brain, trying to remember. 'I think so,' he said at last, 'when you and that waitress were freaking out.'

'Well that card says your name is Angus Young.'

'Cool, right?' Dean grinned but Sam apparently didn't share the sentiment.

'Dean, this is a small town. People talk. You tell Lane and Babette and whoever else back at the diner that we're, well, us, and you check in to the inn as Angus Young-'

'Ok, ok, I get the picture. What do we do then, just go in as ourselves?'

'Yes,' Sam agreed. 'Wait, no, not _us,_ not after what happened in Monument.'

Both were silent for a moment, lost in thoughts about the events in Monument just a few weeks ago. Dean shook his head vigorously, as though that would help to rid him of the guilt he felt for Henrickson and Nancy and all the others in the police station. It didn't work but, then again, Dean Winchester wasn't exactly noted for his ability to quickly get rid of guilt.

'So not Winchester then?' Dean said quickly and Sam looked grateful for the abrupt change in topic.

Dean reached across to the glove box and pulled out the small cardboard box they kept their most frequently used IDs; the full stash of the more obscured aliases was safely hidden in the trunk. It was only a second or two before Dean found what he was looking for.

'There,' he said, handing the cards to Sam who inspected them doubtfully. 'Sam and Dean Webster, federal agents.'

Sam frowned. 'Do we really have to go fed?' he asked. 'I thought we were trying to blend in. Federal agents who also happen to be brothers isn't exactly fitting in, Dean.'

'Well, I already told the waitress, Jane or whatever-'

'Lane,' Sam corrected.

'Whatever,' Dean retorted. 'I already told _Lane_ that we were brothers and I might have told that nut job Kurt-'

'Kirk,' Sam, apparently unable to help himself, corrected again.

'That we were feds on a case,' Dean continued like Sam hadn't spoken. 'So feds and brothers it is.'

Sam looked thoroughly disapproving but didn't dispute the issue. 'So what's out cover; we're investigating the disturbances at the inn?'

'Sounds good to me.'

'And we're going to stay here tonight?'

'To better help with our investigations,' Dean grinned, then a sudden thought occurred to him and his smile dropped at once. 'They better have separate beds here, dude. If not, I call the bed and you can take the floor.'

Sam rolled his eyes. 'Of course they have separate beds,' he muttered, packing away his laptop and grabbing his backpack from the back seat.

'How do you know so much about the place anyway?' Dean asked, realising a second too late that he probably shouldn't be encouraging Sam. 'Did you take your girl here on prom night? No, I know, did you come here for your honeymoon?'

Sam's expression hardened. 'I'm glad you're finding this all so funny, Dean,' he said coldly, climbing out of the car and slamming the door shut.

Now it was Dean's turn to roll his eyes as he too exited the car and followed his brother up the path to the inn. Honestly, the sooner they got this over with and left Stars Hollow behind the better. _Then I can get back to worrying about going to hell_, Dean thought with a sigh. Funny how, in that moment, he couldn't decide which was actually the worst option.

**A/N: Sorry for the delay and anyone waiting on updates! I wasn't sure how I felt about this story, but it seems to have gotten a bit of attention and reviews recently so I started work on it again. For anyone waiting on those Gilmores finally making a long awaited appearance, I assure you they're almost here. In the meantime, I really appreciate you taking the time to read this, and any and all reviews, favourites and follows make my day!**


	5. Chapter 5

All Sam's apparent bravado, fuelled by his annoyance with Dean and this whole situation, seemed to leave him in an instant as he approached the inn's front porch. He fell back into step beside Dean, and Dean noted how easily his brother could look like a little kid again when he wanted to; jolly green giant or not.

'What's wrong, Sammy?' he smirked a little. 'Are you scared of your pretend ex-girlfriend's scary mom?'

'Shut up, Dean.'

And now little kid Sammy had been replaced by teenage Sam who was full of angst about everyone and everything. Dean frowned a little, wondering why he was becoming so nostalgic all of a sudden and thought it was probably to do with the whole going to Hell thing. Having a matter of months, weeks actually, to live would do that to a person, he decided. With this in mind, he decided to ease up on the Sam heckling, at least a little. He didn't want to be spending the little time he had left with Sam constantly annoyed at him. He also didn't want to waste his remaining time - Dean was under no illusion that there was a magic cure for his deal - in Stars Hollow, but that apparently couldn't be helped. At least not until they put this case to bed. Dean just hoped it was as simple a job as it appeared to be, Sam and his weirdo dreams aside. It was about time the Winchesters got a simple, black and white, salt and burn case. Call it intuition, or perhaps just an awareness of their own crappy luck, but Dean had a certainty that it wasn't going to be that easy. Awesome. Just awesome.

'Sam,' Dean said, hoping his suddenly calm and understanding tone didn't sound quite as forced as it felt. 'Why don't you wait out here? I'll go check us in, find out from this Gilmore chick what's been going on, then I'll come get you.'

Sam's expression instantly softened and when he spoke, his tone immediately reminded Dean of the thirteen year old Dean had managed to get out of Dad's latest hunting trip. 'You don't mind?' he asked.

'Course not.'

'Thanks, Dean.' And as Sam said it, Dean wondered when exactly the last time he'd done something worthy of his little brother's thanks. He supposed the whole bringing Sam back from the dead thing had to count for something, although it had become overshadowed by the whole eternal damnation, going to Hell in a few weeks thing. It was nice to have Sam be grateful to him for a change, rather than the too frequent exasperation or downright annoyance.

'No problem. That's what big brothers are for, right? Facing up to pretend ex-girlfriends' scary moms so the little brother doesn't have to?' It wasn't like he could eliminate the Sam heckling altogether; it was his prerogative as the older, and therefore cooler, brother.

'Bite me, Dean.'

'Careful, Sammy, your girlfriend might get jealous.'

'Dean!'

Dean held his hands up in a gesture of mock surrender. 'Alright, alright. Just try and keep a low profile out here, ok? Try not to get ambushed by any more natives.'

'I'll try,' Sam said grimly.

Leaving Sam lurking uncomfortably behind him, Dean climbed the steps to the porch and entered the inn. His first thought was that Sam was right and this place was so far from their usual budget that it didn't bear thinking about. His second thought was that this inn was as puke inducing kitsch and cutesy as the rest of this goddamn town. And his third thought was that this place didn't look like the site of any supernatural activity at all. Dean wasn't stupid, he knew not every case had to take place in a set taken straight from a horror movie, but a lot of them did. Hell, the last hotel haunting they looked into back in Cornwall - Jeez, what was it with haunted inns in Connecticut - had been as creepy as they came. Here, however, the only indication that anything untoward had happened here was the fact that there didn't seem to be any guests in plain sight. Now that Dean came to think about it, the parking lot had been uncommonly empty too, apart from the Impala of course. Clearly something was going on here.

After feeling compelled to wipe his boots on the welcome mat for whatever reason, Dean bypassed the empty sitting room and headed straight for the desk which, annoyingly, was also unoccupied. With half a mind to just turn round, grab Sam and get the hell out of dodge, Dean rang the bell, almost hoping that nobody would answer.

But of course, a moment or two later, a thoroughly disgruntled looking guy in a sharp suit appeared and Dean decided he might as well get the job done since he was here. Or at least, that's what he was planning to do until the guy slowly and deliberately looked him up and down with an expression that quite clearly said 'You don't belong here.' Jerk. Dean suddenly felt very conscious of his ratty flannel shirt and scuffed boots - there hadn't been time to get suited and booted to complete the FBI get up - but no way was he letting this asshat call him out on it. Much like with Kirk back at the diner, Dean pulled out his FBI badge before stowing it back in his inside pocket.

'Can I 'elp you?' the guy asked at once in such a thick French accent that Dean was almost sure he was putting it on.

'Agent Webster,' Dean said smoothly, glad to see the guy looking a little ruffled. 'FBI. Who are you?'

'Michel Gerard. General manager,' he answered at once.

Dean couldn't resist messing with the guy a little; if anyone needed taking down a peg or two, it was this pompous son of a bitch right here. 'Well, that's great, pal, but I'm actually here on important, confidential business. Can I talk to whoever's really in charge around here?'

If possible, Michel's already pinched expression grew ever more so, his eyebrows contracting so much they were in danger of joining together. Apparently he was too insulted to even answer, and Dean couldn't contain a smirk as he watched Michel hurry away. His smile dropped a little, however, as he heard Michel call out, 'Lorelai! There's a...a flannel guy looking for you!'

_Flannel man, seriously?_ Dean would definitely have to tell Sammy that one.

As he heard a door opening and the muffled sounds of a woman's voice, Dean realised he was about to come face to face with Lorelai Gilmore; the mother of the dream girl Sam had gotten so freaked out over. In spite of himself, Dean was more than a little curious to see what she and her daughter were like, and he wasn't exactly sure what to expect.

'Flannel man, seriously?'

Well, at least they shared the same train of thought on that. Somehow, Dean didn't think she'd share his same way of thinking if he told her a ghost might be haunting her inn.

'Would it kill you to actually address people by their names? You've confused poor little Davey into thinking he's actually called Truman and you've known Luke for-'

The woman Dean had to assume was Lorelai rounded the corner and at the sight of him, she abruptly broke off, frowning in confusion.

'You're not Luke,' she said at last, sounding distinctly wrong footed.

_And you're totally not what I expected,_ Dean just about managed to refrain from saying out loud. Lorelai Gilmore did not look old enough to have a daughter Sam's age, and if her kid - Lori or whatever - looked anything like her, then dream Sammy was a very lucky dude indeed. For some reason, insanely hot and smart girls seemed to always take a shine to Sam; Dean's all too brief introduction to Jessica, and then Sarah Blake back in New York, more than proved that theory. And now it seemed that this Gilmore girl, provided she looked like her mom of course, was the same. _Not too shabby, little brother, not too shabby at all._

Lorelai stared back at him, her eyebrows raised expectantly and Dean realised a second too late that she was expecting him to introduce himself or hell, even opening his mouth would be a good start. _Keep it together, Winchester, she's old enough to be Sam's mom, which means she could be your mom...if she started really early._ Dean wasn't one to judge and his most recent encounter with Lisa Braeden , still affectionately known in his mind as Gumby Girl, had more than illustrated the point that moms could have it going on.

'Can I help you?' she asked at last, watching him now with an almost bemused expression.

Dean hastily, and firmly, reminded himself that he was here on business and as his eyes strayed downwards, he noticed the sparkling ring on her left hand.

'Agent Webster,' he said quickly, seeing Michel smirk over Lorelai's shoulder and knowing, without a doubt, that this introduction wasn't quite as smooth as the last.

'Webster, huh? Like the dictionary?' Lorelai smiled.

Dean, who had been about to launch into his patented 'I'm from the FBI and I'm here to ask you a few questions' speech was caught completely off guard. 'I - uh - what?' he stammered.

'Not a fan of dictionary humor?' she continued. 'Don't feel bad, it's not usually a big crowd pleaser. I've been spending way too much time with my daughter and she would have found that hilarious. If it's any consolation, I would have tried the same joke if you'd said your name was Concise Oxford English.'

Dean didn't think he'd ever encountered someone who talked so damn fast before and it took his brain a second or two to process that she'd actually stopped talking and again, was expecting some kind of response from him. He was about to reply with, 'Actually, it's Dean Winchester, like the rifle' - that was always a big hit - before he remembered his alias. Man, he was off his game today though he had to admit that her lame ass dictionary joke would have been right up Sam's street.

'Whatever,' he said quickly, once he'd managed to regain some control over his power of speech. 'Listen, Mrs, uh, Gilmore-'

'Ms,' she corrected, raising an eyebrow as Dean's eyes once again strayed to the wedding band on her left hand. 'What, I'm not allowed to keep my name? God, you sound like my mother.'

Dean felt like pointing out that he hadn't actually said anything but decided it was best to at least try and continue with the investigation. At the rate she kept interrupting him, they'd be here for hours before he got any kind of answers.

'Apologies, _Ms_ Gilmore. Like I said, I'm Agent Webster. I wonder if you could answer a couple of questions about the recent, uh, incidents here at the inn?'

Lorelai frowned and Dean could tell that she was working through the same thought processes as probably everyone else they ever interviewed on the job. 'What does the FBI care?' she said eventually. 'Don't you guys have more important stuff to do? I hear that Al Capone fella is still on the loose.'

'My partner and I were working a case in Hartford,' Dean explained, remembering the last town they'd driven through to get to Stars Hollow.

'Well, if it was the mysterious case of the multiple vanishing maids, then I've got a lead for you,' she interjected, grinning at what was clearly some inside joke he wasn't aware of.

'Right,' he said uncertainly. 'Anyway, we had a job in Hartford and since we wrapped that up, we thought we'd come check this out.'

'Either that or you're _X Files_,' she said, in such a serious tone that Dean couldn't tell if she was actually joking or not. He wondered what his reaction would be if he told her that X Files was actually a pretty good description of what they did.

'So, Mulder, you said Scully was around here somewhere?'

Dean tried to suppress a smirk. He always knew he was Mulder out of the two of them, however much Sam tried to protest that he wasn't a red headed woman. 'My partner's waiting outside,' he said, trying to sound professional again. 'I'll meet up with him later to continue our investigations.'

'You really think there's something here worth investigating?' Lorelai asked incredulously.

'Why don't you tell me, and let me be the judge of that,' Dean replied, sounding, at least in his own head, incredibly smooth. 'The news reports weren't very clear.'

'Yeah, well, that's the Stars Hollow Gazette for you,' Lorelai muttered. 'Not exactly famed for its star journalism.'

'What happened?' Dean prompted.

'You'll think I'm crazy.'

'Try me.'

'No, seriously, I'll tell you this and you'll have Nurse Ratched waiting outside for me,' she insisted.

'You'd be surprised at the stuff I hear on this job.'

'Alright,' Lorelai smiled. 'Since you insisted. You might want to write this down. It started a couple of days ago and I thought I was seeing thing.'

'What did you see?' Dean asked, glad that they were finally getting somewhere, despite how entertaining he found her. 'Tell me everything.'

Sam hovered uncomfortably by the inn's front steps, wishing he could go wait in the car again if only Dean hadn't taken the keys with him. He tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, which was no mean feat for someone of his height. As well as that, however, some part of him really wanted to look around the Dragonfly, no matter how much he denied it. He'd helped to renovate the place, or Dean Forrester had at least, and Sam could remember it as clear as day.

But maybe it was for the best he stayed out of the way, at least until Dean got them a room and he could sneak up the stairs without anyone noticing. With any luck, he could do all the research they needed on his laptop in their room, Dean could look around and do any interviews, they could get the job done tonight when nobody was around and then be on their way. Yeah right, because things were always that simple in Winchester world, or Stars Hollow for that matter.

All things considered, however, Sam remembered the place fondly and he had pleasant recollections of both Lorelai and Rory Gilmore, especially if he focused on the earlier parts of the dream. Before it all went wrong.

If he focused on the movie nights and the book recommendations and sweet, shy kisses in the grocery store and that night on a single bed in her familiar bedroom...well, it wasn't all bad, put it that way. Part of him was dying to see Rory again, and Lorelai too, because she was sort of more like a friend than just a girlfriend's mom. Hell, she was there on their very first date and it was Lorelai who'd invited him over to watch _Willy Wonka_ in the first place. He wanted to see both of them and find out what they'd been up to. As far as Sam could tell, his dream had abruptly cut off when Dean Forrester left town for Chicago and Dean Winchester had decided it was time for breakfast. There were about three years in Stars Hollow that he had to get caught up on. What was Rory doing these days? Had she graduated top of her class at Yale, gone to grad school, followed her long held journalism dream? Had she met a new boyfriend at college; one of those rich guys who'd stood outside her grandparents' house and watched their third and final break up? A lot of things could happen in three years; an entire life could change in just one night, as Sam unfortunately knew only too well. Forget a boyfriend, Rory could be married by now.

As this thought occurred to him, Sam frowned, wondering why he felt a sudden flare of familiar jealousy. Rory wasn't his girlfriend and she never had been, he reminded himself sharply. Sam had never even met the girl, no matter how much he felt like he knew her, and she'd never met him. And no matter how much Sam might like to get to know her as himself - in some strange way, he felt he might actually be a better fit for her than Dean Forrester ever was - he knew he couldn't. If Rory were to happen across him, all she would see would be her three time ex-boyfriend; the one who cheated on his wife to be with her, the one with whom she could never quite make things work. Not exactly a promising picture.

Sam sank into a brightly painted bench - a bench Dean Forrester had sanded down and painted he now remembered - and thought about it all. He tried to be logical, again, to think about the case just like any other hunt. And he succeeded for all of thirty seconds before his mind began to wander again. His thoughts drifted back to Stars Hollow High, not thinking about the here and now and, for once, not obsessing about how to get his brother out of his deal.

_Dean saw her standing by her locker, talking to the dark haired girl with the glasses she seemed to spend all her time with. He shifted a little from his position at the other end of the corridor, trying to get a better look. From what he could tell, she seemed to be packing her stuff into a cardboard box. Dean frowned. She wasn't leaving, was she? He hadn't even spoken to her yet, didn't even know her name even though he'd been watching her the entire week and a half he'd been at the school. Wait, 'watching' totally wasn't the right word. It wasn't like he was creeping on her or anything. He'd just...noticed her, is all. He just noticed how she talked to her friend every day after school then walked to the same bench under the tree to read. He noticed how she abandoned Moby Dick for a few days, switched to reading Madam Bovary for a day or two before switching back. All that, and he didn't know her name...and now she was leaving. He should have talked to her that very first day he moved here even though he had Clara with him. At least then he would have known her name and he might have some idea if she was interested in him at all._

_He watched her friend walk away, watched her fumble with her box, watched as she dropped to her knees to retrieve her things with a huff. Before he knew what he was doing, Dean was hurrying over to her, even though this wasn't how he planned to introduce himself to her at all. In his mind, he'd been constantly replaying scenarios when she'd see him working on his motorcycle, or something equally cool, and be into him right away. Even still, he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially as she might be leaving and he'd never see her again._

_In all his scenarios, however, Dean had never imagined that she'd give a violent start, her features creasing into a frown as she exclaimed, 'God! You're like Ruth Gordon just standing there with the tannis root. Make a noise!'_

_Dean started to get the feeling that he'd had completely the wrong idea when what she'd sad clicked into place in his mind. Ruth Gordon standing there with the tannis root...a tape his mom specifically told him not to watch when he was a kid and when he did, it gave him nightmares for weeks..._

_'Rosemary's Baby?'_

_It was like he said some magic words because all at once, her expression instantly softened and she looked at him now with interest and a little intrigue, not like she wanted to kill him. Definitely a step in the right direction. He listened to her start to babble, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks before he introduced himself. She was completely flustered, he could tell, she was shy and uncertain and she was the cutest girl he'd ever seen._

_'Oh. Rory. Me. That's - me.'_

_He couldn't stop the grin spreading across his face, especially as he watched it mirrored o Rory's expression. Rory. It suited her. Of course she was a Rory. And Rory just happened to go really well with 'Dean'..._

_'Rory,' he repeated, just to see how it sounded. Yep, it definitely sounded nice with Dean. Much nicer than 'Beth' ever did anyway._

_'Well, Lorelai. Technically,' she reconsidered._

_'Lorelai. I like that,' he smiled. _

_He did like it and he also liked her. But more importantly, she seemed to like him too._

'I'm supposed to be on vacation, Hugo, remember?'

Sam abruptly shook himself out of his reverie, the voice now floating across the inn's front lawn shocking him back to the here and now. He ran his fingers through his hair then stood, looking back at the inn for any sign of his brother. Of course there wasn't, Sam sighed. Dean was probably drooling over Lorelai Gilmore right about now. Typical.

'Well, tomorrow morning is a bit tight, considering I'm not actually in DC.'

Sam sat back down, feeling decidedly anxious. There was only so long he could sit out here in the open before someone found him, and he was in no way prepared for that If Dean was very much longer, Sam would have to phone his cell and see what was going on. Not that the jerk would even answer his phone if he was making eyes at Lorelai.

'I've only been gone two days, Hugo, and you're actually the editor, not me.'

And then, all at once, Sam recognised the owner of the voice on the phone that was coming closer and closer to him and there was absolutely nowhere he could go without drawing even more attention to himself. All he could do was turn himself away and not say anything and hope that Rory freakin' Gilmore would just walk past and not notice -

'Tomorrow evening? Nice try, Hugo, you'll have it the day after that, ok? Alright, great. Bye.'

She sounded so professional and business like and about a million miles away from the shy, uncertain girl that Sam had just been remembering, but there was no doubt that it was her. He couldn't risk looking round to see, but he didn't need to in order to recognise her voice. Now, if he could just ignore the slight twinge of excitement that suddenly surged through him and focus all his concentration on willing her to just walk on by -

'Are you ok there?'

_Crap. Crap, crap, crap._

Still without turning round, Sam made a kind of dismissing gesture with his hand as he muttered, 'Yep. Fine. Thanks.' He just hoped that puberty or whatever had changed his voice enough that she wouldn't immediately recognise it.

_Come on, Rory, ignore the clearly crazy guy and just walk on. Just walk on..._

'Are you staying at the inn?'

Why did she have to be so nice? Why couldn't she just be like any other person and just ignore the weird guy?

Sam nodded vigorously, hoping she'd get the hint, but at the same time aware of how insane he must look to her. But that infamous Winchester luck apparently knew no boundaries as Rory sat down on the bench beside him, and there was no way he could keep looking in the other direction.

'Are you ok?' she asked again.

There was nothing else for it; Rory clearly wasn't going to go away any time soon. He was just going to have to get it over with and try to explain that he really wasn't her old ex-boyfriend.

He saw the recognition in her eyes the second he turned around, saw her eyebrows rise in surprise, saw the shock and surprise all over her expression.

'Oh my God, Dean?'

_Here we go again._

**Apologies for the delay in uploading, but here we are and the Gilmores have finally put in their appearance! Let me tell you, Rory and Lorelai are not easy characters to write (all bow down to Amy Sherman-Palladino!) but I had a go! Also Michel was great fun; of course he and Dean Winchester would rub each other up the wrong way! Let me know what you think and remember that any and all reviews, follows and favourites are very gladly appreciated.**


	6. Chapter 6

'Uh, sorry?' Feigning ignorance, Sam decided, was the best way to try and get through this.

'Wow, I - I can't believe you're here. What _are_ you doing here?' All that business like professionalism had gone right out the window and Sam got a glimpse of the flustered teenager Dean Forrester had first met

'Sorry,' Sam said quickly. 'I think you must have me confused with someone else.'

She continued to stare at him in complete confusion and Sam could tell she wasn't at all convinced. 'I'm Sam,' he said hastily, extending a hand for her to shake. 'Sam Webster.'

Rory accepted his handshake but quickly dropped his hand, looking at him in intense disbelief. 'Sam?' she repeated.

'Yeah. Sam Webster.' Then, deciding he might as well do the thing properly, he pulled the fake ID Dean had given him earlier and showed it to her. 'I'm, uh, a federal agent. My partner and I are actually here on a job.'

In spite of her confusion, Rory actually seemed to smile a little at that. 'You're working a job _here?'_ she asked, gesturing to the picturesque inn behind them. 'Jeez, must be a slow day for you guys, huh?'

'Yeah. Yeah, something like that.'

When she turned back to him, however, all traces of a smile had gone from her face and had been replaced with uncertainty and confusion once again. 'Sorry,' she said after a moment, clearly realising she was staring right at him. 'Sorry, it's just...you really look like someone I knew once.'

'Really?' Sam said, hoping his incredulity didn't sound as forced as it felt. 'Huh. That's, uh, funny.'

'Yeah. It is,' Rory said quietly, still not looking entirely convinced. 'I haven't seen that guy in a while and...' she trailed off. 'Sorry for freaking you out. I'll, uh, let you get back to work.'

As she went to stand up, Sam, without even thinking, reached out a hand to stop her, then hastily withdrew it at the confused look Rory sent his way. 'Sorry,' he blurted out. 'I, uh, my partner's booking us a room,' he added lamely, just for something to fill the uncomfortable silence.

'Oh. Good,' Rory answered quickly. 'I mean, it's a great place. Sorry, what did you say your name was again?'

Sam barely heard her. He was too busy trying to work out why he'd just tried to stop her when he realised that she was expecting an answer. 'Oh! I'm, uh, Sam. That's - I'm Sam,' he said at last, sounding and feeling like a complete idiot.

'Ok, Doctor Seuss,' she smiled and after a moment she blushed, apparently realising she hadn't introduced herself. 'Oh. Rory. Me. That's - me.'

'Rory,' Sam repeated, realising a second too late that they were repeating Rory's first meeting with Dean Forrester word for word, as though she wasn't suspicious enough already. He decided to take charge of the conversation and steer it away, far away, from anything to do with Dean. 'So, uh, are you staying at the inn? he asked in what he hoped was an offhand, conversational tone.

'No, my mom actually owns the Dragonfly,' she explained and Sam nodded along, looking interested and not like he knew that already.

'Cool,' Sam replied, cringing as he sounded like a twelve year old talking to his first crush. _Get a grip, Winchester, seriously._

To his surprise, Rory smiled, almost bemusedly. 'Yes, it is, it's very...cool.'

An uncomfortable silence lapsed between the two and every time she caught Sam's eye, Rory immediately looked away, her face blazing with embarrassment. There were about a thousand things Sam wanted to say to her, a thousand things more he wanted to ask her, but how could he, without sounding like a complete creep?

'So you're a journalist?' Sam blurted out before he could stop himself. The second he heard his own words, he realised just how stalkerish they sounded. Great.

Rory frowned a little. 'Yeah,' she said slowly, 'how did you-'

'Oh,' Sam said hastily, thinking wildly on the spot. 'Sorry, I - I heard you talking on the phone and, uh, it sounded like you were talking to an editor or something, I don't know...'

_'Uh, well, I've been watching you.'_

_'Watching me?'_

_'I mean, not in a creepy like, I'm watching you way kind of way, I just - I've noticed you.'_

'Oh.' Sam could see Rory visibly relax, presumably content in the knowledge that she didn't have a stalker who looked like her first boyfriend. 'Right. I suppose the notebook I'm carrying was something of a giveaway too, huh?'

Sam couldn't stop the grin spreading across his face as he noticed the well worn notebook balanced on her lap. 'I hadn't even noticed,' he admitted.

'Man, with those investigative skills you should be in the FBI.'

'So what paper do you work for?' Sam asked quickly, steering conversation well away from himself in case she used that brain of hers to work out that he wasn't really a fed.

'Nothing so prestigious,' she smiled. 'Just an online magazine, at least for now.'

'Well, that's much cooler,' Sam replied, because apparently his inner seventh grader was just bursting out of him today.

'I'm glad someone thinks so. Everyone thinks that newspapers are a dying art form and the internet's the way forward-'

'But you don't?' Sam asked, genuinely curious and knowing, without a doubt, that this was a conversation Dean Forrester would never have had any interest in.

'Don't listen to me, I'm just a technophobe who still uses DSL at home. It's just, well, nothing compares to the actual printed press, you know? Online, sure more people read it, but it's not as exciting as-' She broke off, looking distinctly embarrassed. 'Sorry. I never talk this much.'

'Don't apologise. It's nice to actually have a conversation that's not about...' he trailed off, realising that ending his sentence with 'trying to stop my brother going to hell in a few weeks' wouldn't be entirely appropriate. 'Federal stuff,' he finished lamely a second too late.

'Right.' Rory raised an eyebrow, looking more unconvinced than ever and Sam decided that another rapid change of conversation was needed.

'So, have you ever worked at a newspaper?' he asked, quickly aware that he was the one sounding like a journalist himself trying to find out every last thing about her.

If Rory was put off by his consistent questioning, then she made no mention of it, something for which Sam was immensely grateful. 'No. Well, just at high school, and then college.'

'What college did you go to?' Sam realised he should probably engage with what Rory was saying, rather than just firing endless questions at her, but it couldn't be helped. The more he could get her to talk about herself, and not ask awkward questions about him the better.

'Me? Oh, Yale,' she replied, almost hesitantly, like she was embarrassed about admitting she'd gone to such a good school.

'Nice,' Sam said appreciatively, because even though he'd already known that, he knew better than anyone how hard it was to apply and actually get into a college. Mind you, he thought wryly, no matter how difficult Rory had undoubtedly found the process, he was sure she hadn't done it without the full support of her family. Hell, nobody even knew that Sam had applied to Stanford until the day he decided to leave for college - but that was a dark memory to pursue at the best of times so he decided to push it to the side in what he'd coined The Dean Winchester Method of Coping.

'Thanks,' Rory smiled and as her eyes connected with his, Sam couldn't suppress a small smile either. 'Did you go to college?'

'Yeah,' Sam found himself answering before he could get another question in. 'Stanford.'

'That's a great school,' she replied, looking impressed.

'Yeah,' Sam agreed. 'Yeah, I thought so anyway.'

Maybe she caught the slightly wistful look in his eye or maybe she was genuinely interested in this guy who looked so much like her old boyfriend and yet seemed the complete opposite. Either way, it was Rory's turn to ask the questions and Sam found himself wanting to answer, even if they strayed into dangerous territory.

'What was your major?'

'I was pre law,' Sam replied, neglecting to add that he never actually graduated. That might lead to awkward questions why and Sam could only imagine Rory's face if he told her the real answer. 'You see, Rory, a demon killed my girlfriend, the same demon that killed my mom actually, so I dropped out of school, and my brother and I went on a road trip to find our missing dad. We did find him, so that was good, but then he got killed too, by that same demon again, if you can believe it. Not to worry though, my brother, who's called Dean, like this wasn't all weird enough, did kill the son of a bitch. On the way to that, though, I was murdered, literally stabbed in the back. Why am I still standing? Well, funny story, my brother sold his soul to a crossroads demon, did I mention that demons are real already, to bring me back to life. So, here I am, but that means he's headed to hell, in a few weeks actually. So, to cut a long story short, between hunting monsters and trying to get my brother out of eternal damnation, I haven't had time to hit the books again.' He decided it was best to keep that particular anecdote to himself, even in this crazy town which, on multiple occasions and by various people, had been compared to one big mental asylum.

Thankfully, Rory wasn't to know any of that and she just smiled as she said, 'Pre law? How very Elle Woods of you.'

It took Sam a second or two to work out just what on earth she was talking about before it clicked into place in his brain. Of course. Jessica had loved that film and was fond of putting it on to tease Sam with, especially when he was stressing out over the LSAT.

'Something like that,' she smiled. 'I'm guessing you were a journalism major?'

She nodded. 'Right again, Sherlock. Journalism major, little freak out around graduation time, decision not to go to grad school...you know, the standard.'

Sam found himself nodding along, even though he didn't have the slightest idea what it felt like to be a 'standard' college student freaking out about life after graduation. Back then, he'd been set for a full ride to law school, his entire future on a plate as he recalled describing it to Dean. Now, however, his carefully planned future had given way to jut surviving from day to day, hoping this week's werewolf wouldn't tear him limb from limb. It had been a while since he'd really thought about all that; recent events had somewhat preoccupied him. These days, the Stanford student seemed a million miles away from who he'd become and he'd reconciled himself with that unfortunate fact. One conversation with Rory Gilmore, however, and he was thinking about college more than he'd done in years. He remembered her urging Dean Forrester to push himself towards college, how she'd freaked out and fought with him when he revealed he was taking a break, and wondered if she was having a similar effect on him.

Lost in thought as he was, it took Sam a second or two to realise that Rory was still talking and he just caught the tail end of what she was saying.

'So I spend most of my time in DC as a political journalist but I had a couple of days vacation, so here I am. Back in the Hollow,' she continued.

'I guess Stars Hollow is a nice place to come and relax after Washington.'

'Best place ever to come and read, though my mom always said I'd read anything, including the back of a cereal packet, so it doesn't matter where I am,' she joked.

Sam almost made some comment about reading in the benches under the trees in the two square, but refrained. If it sounded creepy when Dean Forrester said it then Sam had no chance.

'What are you reading?' he asked instead, deciding it was a much safer line of questioning.

'Re-reading,' she corrected, pulling a large and clearly well worn volume from her bag. '_Anna Karenina.'_

As he looked at the familiar cover, two very conflicting memories came flooding back to him. He remembered sitting at a bus stop in Stars Hollow, being persuaded by a much younger Rory in a school uniform, to give the book another try. He remembered sitting at home whenever he could get a free minute away from Clara, struggling to get through it because it was so important to Rory, but never quite managing to do so. But he was also very clearly remembered Jessica coming home from her Lit class to their apartment in Stanford, telling him he just had to read _Anna Karenina_ because she'd loved it. He remembered reading it cover to cover that spring break with Jess eagerly awaiting her reaction to see if he enjoyed it as much as she did. And, God help him, in that moment Sam couldn't work out which of those memories felt more real even though he knew very well that the former was just a dream.

'That's a great book,' he found himself saying.

'Well, I think so,' Rory smiled. 'I've read it at least four times over the years. I've barely talked to any guys who could get through it though. Even at Yale, if it wasn't Hunter S. Thompson or Jack Kerouac-'

'There's nothing wrong with Hunter S. Thompson,' Sam argued, immediately and instinctively, leaping to Dean Forrester's defence as he recalled a certain fondness for the author. But it was all playful back and forth and Sam could tell that Rory was enjoying it too. She might get to have conversations like this all the time, but any time Sam ever spoke about a book that wasn't lore related, Dean would tell him to shut up, calling him an ever bigger nerd than he was in high school. However, to be fair to Dean, he did make the exact same claim whenever Sam was looking through the lore books too. But this was the kind of discussion Sam hadn't had since leaving college and he was making the most of it - until he inevitably put his foot in his mouth again, that is.

'Point taken,' Rory said fairly. 'And for your information, I did read Thompson in exchange for...someone else reading Jane Austen.'

Sam knew all about that exchange and without really thinking about it, replied, 'My girlfriend made me read _Pride and Prejudice_.' That much was true, no matter which set of memories he chose to dwell on; Jessica had been a huge Austen fan too and had successfully coerced Sam into borrowing her copies of the book approximately one week after they met.

'Your girlfriend has good taste,' Rory said approvingly before her eyes widened in horror and her face blazed scarlet. 'No! I meant, I just meant she has good taste in literature,' she added quickly, dropping her gaze.

'Yeah. Yeah, she did,' Sam agreed, deciding it was kinder not to mention Rory's moment of embarrassment.

'She did?' Rory frowned, looking confused. 'Doesn't she anymore?'

Sam hated this part, hated the sudden and awkward sympathy, hated that Jess was dead. Indeed, it had been so long since he'd talked aloud about her or even thought deeply about her that it hurt all the more.

'She died,' he said quietly and simply, watching her bemused expression turn to one of shock and then sympathy, just as he'd expected.

'What was her name?' Rory asked quietly, sounding awkward but somehow still genuine, like she really wanted to know.

'Jess,' Sam answered automatically, without even thinking.

He realised just how weird that must have sounded to Rory even before her features creased into a confused frown. After all, Sam remembered, Jess had been the name of Rory's second boyfriend, the cool guy who read and smoked and didn't give two shakes of a rat's ass about anything. He was the guy who rolled into town and upset everything, in the mind of Dean Forrester anyway, who couldn't see the flaws in his relationship with Rory and just wanted someone to blame. It was just a strange and perhaps unfortunate coincidence that he happened to have the same name as Sam's girlfriend. He wondered grimly what Rory's reaction would be when she found out his brother's name was Dean. She'd definitely be convinced he was a stalker then.

'Jessica,' Sam hastily corrected himself though the damage had already been done. 'Nobody ever called her Jess,' he continued, aware that he really was babbling now but unable to stop herself. 'Her name was Jessica, she always went by her full name, I don't know why I even said-'

Sam might have continued on sounding like a madman all afternoon if it wasn't for the hand that suddenly clapped down on his shoulder. He looked up and had never been so relieved to see his big brother in practically all his life. Dean had come to his rescue and for once, Sam didn't care that he felt like a little kid again who needed his brother to watch out for him.

'Sorry to interrupt,' Dean said smoothly, effectively cutting out Sam's mindless chattering.

'It's fine,' Sam said, hoping he sounded calm and professional rather than just wildly relieved.

But Dean, it appeared, was no longer listening and Sam couldn't refrain from rolling his eyes. Honestly, if Dean had just come over here to hit on Rory...she was so much more Sam's type than Dean's but his brother hadn't exactly been picky in what he believed to be his last few weeks on earth.

'Agent Dean Webster,' he said, in what Sam recognised as his brother's most impressive, imposing tone.

And just like that, all Sam's relief evaporated in an instant. Of course his stupid brother would bring up his freakin' name, as if Rory wasn't creeped out enough by Sam dropping the 'Jess' bomb. If she hadn't realised there was something fishy going on, then she could hardly fail to see it now. Sam watched her eyes darting uncertainly between them and knew she was about to put that journalism major to good use and question them. Dean, thankfully, chose that moment to pull himself together after seemingly realising what was going on.

'Well, if you'll excuse us, my partner and I have an investigation to carry out,' Dean said quickly, practically pulling Sam to his feet and hurrying him along.

'I - of course,' Rory replied, sounding extremely flustered as she too stood up and gathered her stuff together. 'I - I was just going home.'

'I thought you were going to the inn?' Sam asked, because apparently he just didn't know when to quit.

'No,' Rory insisted. 'No, I, uh, I have to get back. It, uh, it was nice to meet you, I guess.'

Together, Sam and Dean watched as Rory hurried down the porch steps and out of their sight.

'Kind of nervous, isn't she?' Dean commented, turning to Sam with a smirk. 'I can see why you would leave the wife for her though. Unless the wife is super hot too. Tell you what, that's what we should do next, go check out the ex wife and-'

'Seriously, Dean?' Sam snapped a lot harsher that he intended.

'What?' Dean replied, his smirk not even slipping a little.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing himself not to explode, knowing that would be the least helpful thing to do in this situation. Instead, with a supreme effort, he made himself to stay calm as he said, 'Well, did you get us a room or not?'

Dean continued to smirk, clearly enjoying the look on Sam's face. Jerk.

'Of course I got us a room. This isn't my first rodeo, Sammy.' He fished a set of keys out of his pocket and held them up for inspection. 'Only the best for the Websters apparently. Separate beds and all.'

'I told you so,' Sam couldn't help but retort no matter how much he felt like a kid for saying it.

'Yeah, well, good for you,' Dean replied, sounding equally as childish. 'Now do you think we could continue this inside before any more pretend girlfriends come crawling out of the woodwork?'

It was with a slightly guilty conscience that Sam realised he hadn't given the actual case a second though since Rory showed up. 'Oh. Right,' he said slowly.

'So unless you want to stay out here and see how many more natives you can attract-'

'I'm coming, Dean,' Sam said firmly.

'Good.'

When Sam hesitated at the inn's front door, Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes, feeling his already fragile patience growing even thinner. 'The coast is clear, Sam,' he said impatiently. 'Lorelai's gone back to her office, I sent that French guy on an errand because he annoyed me and there aren't any other guests. Now, hurry up.'

Dean led the way through the inn and up the stairs, Sam at his heels. As he unlocked their room and pushed the door open, he had to grudgingly admit that while it definitely wasn't to his taste, it wasn't too shabby at all. He automatically took the bed closest to the door, just like he'd done for as long as he could remember, and sat down, deciding he'd go out to the car for the rest of their stuff later. Sam remained standing by the door, looking perturbed and Dean braced himself for whatever Sammy was going to throw his way next.

'So, you wanna hear about this job or not?' Dean asked.

Sam seemed to come to his senses and Dean had to hand it to him for at least trying to act normal. 'Of course,' Sam said quickly, sitting down at the edge of his own bed and making a show of appearing interested. 'Shoot.'

Glad that Sam was at least pretending to be onboard, Dean began to recount all what Lorelai had told him; how books in the library had been literally flying off the shelves or snapping shut on the fingers of anyone who tried to read them, how the pots in the kitchen would suddenly spill their contents for no reason, how unsuspecting maids were locked inside rooms...

'Sounds like a poltergeist to me,' Sam said after Dean finished.

Dean nodded in agreement. 'I was thinking the same thing and it looks like we got here just in time before things started turning violent.' He stretched back on the bed, his arms behind his head and one leg crossed over the other. 'Man, we haven't taken out a poltergeist in forever. The last one must have been...oh yeah, back in Lawrence.'

Sam instantly averted his gaze, looking as uncomfortable as Dean felt remembering the details of that particular case. 'There'll be notes in Dad's journal, right?' he asked quickly, apparently determined to stay strictly on topic.

Dean actually felt a little guilty, knowing that Sam was already freaked out enough without him adding to it. 'Of course,' he answered, just as quickly. 'Since it's been a while, I'll read over the hex bag stuff, just so we don't look rusty.'

'Good idea.'

'Has been known to happen from time to time,' Dean joked. 'And as for my trusty sidekick, Geek Boy, you can be in charge of research. I know this looks like your textbook poltergeist, but it could be a ghost goofing off before it gets down to the real business.'

'I already told you-' Sam began but Dean cut him off.

'Yeah, yeah, no violent deaths,' Dean said dismissively. 'I remember. But a town like this with all the historic crap might have a few skeletons in its closet. Literally.'

In fairness, Sam actually looked glad at having something productive to do and powered up his laptop right away while Dean took Dad's journal from his inside pocket. He'd been reading the thing almost religiously these past few weeks and quickly found what he was looking for. He wasn't as clear on the whole ritual thing as he should have been and it was comforting to have all the instructions laid out in Dad's familiar chicken scratch, like someone had their back. Dean reasoned that they could, and did, always call Bobby if they were in over their heads, but that wasn't exactly the point here. He read carefully through Dad's notes, pleased to find that the ritual didn't seem too difficult, provided they got all the hex bags where they needed to go as quickly as possible. Better still, everything they needed was rattling around in the Impala's trunk. Dean didn't want to say it aloud for fear of jinxing it, but this case might actually turn out to be as simple as he'd hoped, ignoring Sam and his dreams of course.

Instead, he turned the conversation to what he hoped were lighter and friendlier channels. 'So, it looked like you and Rory were getting pretty friendly,' Dean said, only half joking and hoping he didn't sound too much like a gossiping middle-schooler.

Sam's head jerked up from the laptop at once, his deer in the headlights expression making it look like he'd been caught on one of Dean's more frequented websites. 'Really? You, uh, think so?' he asked, clearly attempting to sound casual but failing miserably.

Dean grinned. 'I know so,' he corrected. 'From where I was sitting, it looked like you two had become a pair of Chatty Cathys. Who knows where you might have ended up if I hadn't stepped in?'

'It wasn't like that,' Sam insisted but there was no denying the reluctant smile he tried to cover up.

'Whatever you say, Sammy. Hey, you didn't tell me what her mom was lie!'

'Dean, you didn't...' Sam left his question deliberately open, looking equal parts horrified and curious.

'Dude, she's married,' Dean said quickly to clear up any confusion.

'Wait, she's married?' Sam asked, momentarily sidetracked. 'That's, wow, I didn't know that. Who'd she get married to?'

Dean shrugged. 'How the hell am I supposed to know? I was more interested in finding out about the case to be honest.'

'Sure, of course,' Sam said hastily, his eyes quickly returning to his laptop as if to reiterate that he really was more interested in the case too.

_Nice try, Sammy._

'How was your pin up girl, Sammy?' Dean asked conversationally. 'Everything you literally dreamed of?'

Sam's face blazed scarlet and Dean had to seriously try hard not to burst out laughing. This kind of making Sam uncomfortable was one he could definitely get on board with.

'She was fine,' Sam muttered though he was still blushing furiously and refused to meet Dean's gaze.

'Oh she was _fine_, was she?' Dean grinned.

'Yeah,' Sam agreed before realising exactly what he was agreeing to and pulling himself together. 'I mean...whatever...she was-'

Dean held up a hand to silence him. 'Say no more, Sam, I get the picture. So what were you two getting so cosy over anyway? You didn't tell her about the whole dream thing, did you?'

'What? No!' Sam answered quickly.

'Probably for the best,' Dean nodded wisely. 'You don't want to freak her out right away by doing the whole Jennifer Love Hewitt routine.'

Sam's only response was one of his trademark quelling stares which Dean took as a cue to continue speaking. 'What were you talking about?'

Sam shrugged, still looking decidedly awkward. 'Just,' he began uncertainly, 'you know, stuff and...uh, stuff.'

Dean rolled his eyes impatiently. Honestly, sometimes Sam wanted to talk about anything and everything under the sun and others it was like getting blood from a stone.

'Stuff?' he repeated in what he thought was a fairly accurate imitation of Sam's voice. 'For the love of God, Sammy, throw me a bone here!'

If possible, Sam managed to look even more embarrassed; his face was now a good match for their room's bright red curtains. 'Just stuff,' he said again. 'She started off freaking out because she thought I was, you know, that other guy-'

'Dean Forrester,' Dean added knowingly.

'Yeah. Anyway, I tried to tell her my name was Sam-'

'Webster,' Dean interjected again. 'Just like the dictionary.' Sam smiled at that, just like the massive nerd Dean knew him to be

'If you say so,' Sam smiled.

'Did she buy that?' Dean asked sceptically. If this girl was as smart as everyone from Sam to those mad old women back at the diner had led him to believe, then he was sure she had her doubts.

Sam shrugged. 'I think she tried to, at least. Took her a while to realise I wasn't some kind of weirdo stalker who knew everything about her and also looked like her first boyfriend.'

Dean considered this for a moment. 'Hang on, isn't that exactly what you are?'

Sam's eyes narrowed but he continued on like he hadn't heard that particular jibe. 'Anyway, after that, we just talked about-'

'If you say _stuff_ one more time, I swear I'm going to take a leaf out of that Jake kid's book and stab you myself,' Dean threatened.

Sam raised his eyebrows so high they were in danger of disappearing into his hairline. 'Jeez, Dean, eager much?'

'Yeah, well, they don't have any of the good channels here and I need some entertainment,' Dean countered. 'Dance, monkey boy!'

'Fine. If you're so interested, we just talked about her job in DC and books and college. You know, stuff like that.'

Dean rolled his eyes again. 'Dude, I am having some serious high school Sammy flashbacks. Are you going to meet her in the library after class?'

'Hilarious.'

'Pretty funny from where I'm sitting,' Dean smirked.

'It wasn't like that,' Sam insisted, his voice taking on a childish, earnest tone that Dean hadn't heard in a very long time. 'She was just talking about this book she was reading and I've read it so we were talking about it.'

'What book?' Dean asked, more for something to say rather than any other reason.

Sam hesitated a little before answering. 'Uh, _Anna Karenina,' _he said at last.

Dean frowned. He'd never heard of it - obviously, he thought wryly - but Sam clearly had and by the looks of him, he'd had quite the discussion about it too. Geek Boy strikes again. Dean was about to make some remark of that kind but Sam started talking again in that same earnest tone that was so reminiscent of his eleven year old self.

'It was just nice, you know? Just getting to talk about books that aren't about freakin' exorcisms or whatever for once. It's been so long since I've got to talk to anyone about stuff like that, not since Jess...' Sam trailed off, his eyes wide with earnest enthusiasm.

Dean, on the other hand, was feeling something else entirely. He could practically fill in the rest of Sam's sentiments himself; 'Not since Jess and I were totally content in our own lives before you turned up and everything fell to shit.' Deep down, Dean knew he was looking too closely into things and he should be grateful that Sam was actually enjoying himself, albeit in his own nerdy way, instead of constantly being on edge. He knew all of that but it still stung a little. The more time passed, the more Dean could distance himself from the memory of Sam leaving for Stanford. Or try to at least, especially as Sam himself barely mentioned it anymore. It was obvious that's where Sam really belonged. the current look on Sam's face was more than enough evidence, but that didn't mean Dean had to enjoy the fact. Call it some twisted feelings of deep seated jealousy or maybe it was the uncertainty of whether Sam would have stayed away forever if Dean hadn't broken into his apartment that fateful night, but it hurt all the same.

'Well, I'm happy for you, Sam,' Dean managed to say but he clearly wasn't the only one who noticed the suddenly flat tone in his voice.

'What's wrong?' Sam asked, momentarily confused before that brain of his kicked into overdrive and he realised what was going on. 'Oh God, that's not - I wasn't trying...' he trailed off, one hand raking uncomfortably through his hair. 'It's just been a really weird day,' he said at last by way of apology. 'I'm - I'm not thinking straight. The whole time with Rory, I had a serious case of foot in mouth disease.'

'But I guess she's just too smart to care, huh?' Dean couldn't help but say even though he knew it was overreacting and that it was a low blow.

Sam's face was a perfect expression of anguish. 'Come on, man, that's not what I said.'

'I know,' Dean said quietly, 'I know. I'm, uh, just going to get the rest of the stuff.'

'Ok,' Sam said, equally as quietly as he watched Dean leave the room.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in an uneasy mixture of pointed silence and even more uncomfortable conversations. Sam, to give him credit, avoided any topics related to Rory Gilmore, books and his discussion of the latter with the former. Eventually, he seemed to realise that he was flogging a dead horse and he went back to his research though he continued to glance furtively at Dean when he thought his brother wasn't looking. Dean, meanwhile, set to work assembling the hex bags they needed for the purification ritual, just as Missouri had shown them way back when. They still had the stuff she gave them on that case and Dean assumed it was still perfectly ok to use. After all, it wasn't like crossroads dirt and herbs could exactly go bad, right?

'Definitely not a vengeful spirit,' Sam said after a while, breaking the silence they'd once again lapsed into.

'No?' Dean asked, looking up from the latest hex bag.

'No,' Sam confirmed. 'No violent deaths ever occurred here at the inn, it wasn't built on any burial site and I can't find anyone, living or dead, who would want to harm the place.'

'Poltergeist it is then.'

'Looks like it. You about done with those hex bags yet?' Sam asked. 'This place has two floors, a basement and an attic. The sooner we get going the better.'

Dean finished tying the last bag and threw it to Sam with a flourish. 'Hold your horses there, cowboy. The day time staff don't leave until nine, Lorelai said.'

Sam frowned. 'But what about the night time staff?' he asked, suddenly sounding very concerned. 'I'm pretty sure there'll be a night manager who won't take kindly to us punching holes in the dry wall.'

'Way ahead of you, little brother,' Dean said confidently.

If possible, Sam looked even more uncomfortable than before. 'Oh God, Dean, what did you do?' he groaned.

'Why do you always go _there_?'

'Cause it's you,' Sam replied without missing a beat, 'and you always go _there._'

'True,' Dean mused. 'But not this time, Sammy. Ever since word got out about the freaky crap going on at the inn, they haven't had any guests. No slumber party guests, no need for a night manager, right?'

'Right,' Sam replied doubtfully.

'Well, since things are slow, the night manager decided to take an early vacation,' Dean explained.

'So there's nobody watching the place at all?'

'Not exactly. Lorelai and Pepé Le Pew have been staying later than usual to keep an eye on things and lock up. Then she said her husband's been stopping by each night just to check that the coast is clear.'

'We have to wait for him to come snooping then?' Sam asked.

'Would you let me finish? I was just about to tell you that her husband was going out of town this evening to see his kid or something. Anyway, that means Mr Lorelai is out of the picture tonight, so come nine, we'll have the place to ourselves.'

Sam frowned and Dean knew they were sharing the same thought. 'Does this all seem a little-'

'Convenient?' Dean finished for him. 'Completely.'

'You thinking this is some kind of trap?' Sam asked concernedly, reverting back to one of his earliest ideas about this whole thing.

'I don't know what to think,' Dean answered honestly. 'But I grabbed a butt load of stuff from the trunk, so whatever it is we'll be ready for it.'

'So we do the thing with the hex bags and then see what we're actually dealing with?'

'Got it in one, Sammy. Go in half assed and make things up as we go along; my favourite kind of plan.'

Sam frowned again but didn't comment. Glad that the air between them seemed to have been cleared - all without any reference being made to the actual subject of course - Dean set about methodically polishing and then loading his gun with silver bullets just in case. Time seemed to pass at a more comfortable pace after that since they weren't walking on eggshells around each other, at least not anymore than usual. Dean had found two bags of questionable chips in the Impala earlier which served as a makeshift dinner. He almost debated not giving Sam any when he was being particularly annoying earlier, but ultimately decided against it. For one thing, he wasn't that cruel and besides, he didn't want Sam passing out with hunger when he was supposed to have Dean's back, especially since the kid didn't eat any breakfast or lunch either.

It wasn't long until the time came to do their job. They decided to tackle downstairs first since that seemed to be the main hub of activity. Dean also told Sam, in no uncertain terms, that they weren't splitting up on this one. Last time they fought a poltergeist, Sam had very nearly been taken out by a murderous lamp with strangling tendencies. And Dean had had more than enough of holding his brother's lifeless body in his arms, thank you very much.

It was with a slight air of trepidation that they went downstairs to the Dragonfly's front hall, hex bags and weapons at the ready. Picturesque or not, the inn was creepy as hell at night with absolutely nobody around.

'Ready?' Sam whispered, poised to take care of the north and east walls.

'Ready,' Dean replied. 'Remember, Sam, quick as you can. Soon as this thing realises what we're up to, it's going to be pissed. On three. One, two-'

It was of course at that moment that the inn's front door burst open and an incensed voice yelled, 'What the hell is going on here?'

**A/N: First of all, sorry about the prolonged delay. I've spent the last three weeks in America (my first trip!) and couldn't update but to make up for it, this chapter is extra long. I hope everyone enjoys and bonus points to anyone who can spot the little shout out to the Supernatural Season 10 gag reel (and anyone hasn't watched it yet, you need to rectify that situation, after you've finished this chapter of course!) As ever, any and all reviews, follows and favourites are greatly appreciated. Special thanks to all the guest reviews who I can't thank personally.**


	7. Chapter 7

Rory Gilmore sat alone at the kitchen table of her childhood home completely lost in thought. Her notebook lay open before her, the fresh, blank page a stark reminder of everything she'd planned, and failed, to complete that day. Well, you know what they said about the best laid plans, and Rory had been full of good intentions that day. It had started off normal enough, which in itself was a relative term in Stars Hollow; she'd gotten up early to go see Lane and the boys before her best friend started work. Then she had plans to meet her mom for lunch in the Dragonfly, work on her latest article, then maybe catch a movie at the Black, White and Red that evening. All while stopping in at her favourite spots around town to read, of course. But, as things turned out, she hadn't even got as far as lunch and was resigned to eating stale Pop Tarts at home as she tried to make sense of it all.

Rory had literally stopped dead in her tracks, and experienced about a dozen other clichés - she was pretty sure her heart had even skipped a beat - when she thought she saw Dean that afternoon. All things considered, she remembered Dean Forrester fondly, whatever had gone down in the later years of their relationship, or rather, relationships. Dean symbolised many things to Rory; he was her first love, after all, her first kiss, her first date, her first heartbreak. Her first time. Even now, three years on, the guilt over that whole situation still crept up on her from time to time. But if she focused on _that_ moment, and ignored the context, then it was a good memory too. They'd never been able to make it work though and that had been the underlying failure of their three attempted relationships. Even if you removed Jess, and then Lindsey and every other excuse from the equation, then there was still no denying that Rory and Dean just couldn't make it work.

Rory had resigned herself to that a long time ago and now whenever she thought about Dean, it was fleetingly as she wondered if he'd ever gone back to school, or just what he was doing these days. It was the same way she thought about how Jess was doing in Philadelphia or how Logan's latest business venture was working out. Today, however, all that logical thinking had flown straight out the window and she reverted back to her awkward, ungainly teenage self.

She hadn't seen Dean in years, not since the night of their third and final break up, she now recalled with a cringe. That night certainly wasn't one of her finest moments. After that, from what Rory had heard, Dean had left Stars Hollow, presumably for his hometown of Chicago.

_'Chicago. Windy...Oprah.'_

_'Yeah, yeah, that's the place.'_

Until he turned up out of the blue at the Dragonfly this afternoon. Except it wasn't Dean at all, and that was just another reason why she was feeling so confused and mixed up. Not Dean, just another guy, an FBI agent of all things, who had Dean's eyes and smile and floppy hair, even if he was more filled out and grown up. Then they'd started talking and Rory realised that Sam, as he insisted his name was, was intellectual and bookish in ways that Dean, bless him, had never been. But still there was something so definitely _Dean_ about him that Rory just didn't know what to think; same charm and mannerisms and again, that smile.

Rory gave herself a shake and a stern telling off for acting like she was sixteen years old and had just had her first kiss in the grocery store. She was a grown woman for crying out loud with her own career, yet one day back in Stars Hollow and it felt like she'd completely regressed. So what would teenage Rory do, if she'd run into a cute guy and she needed help figuring out her feelings? Easy, she'd call Lane and get a second opinion. For a moment or two she amused herself with the thought of calling up Paris Geller instead. She could only imagine Paris' reaction if she did; she was sure she'd get a severe reprimand from Dr Geller, as Paris was well on her way to becoming, for wasting the time of Harvard medical school's best and brightest.

No, Lane would be the authority on this one, once she'd put the twins to bed, of course, and as long as she didn't mind comforting her obviously delusional friend. Rory checked her watch and made sure it was a reasonable time to call Lane and to her relief, it was. The fact that she even had to check at all made Rory feel a little ridiculous for calling. There was Lane with her own home and her children and here was Rory, freaking out because she met a guy who happened to look like her high school boyfriend.

Well, matters couldn't be helped, and since Lorelai had said she would be working late, Rory had no other choice. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and was just about to call Lane when, to her surprise, her phone rang instead. Call it best friend telepathy or just a strange coincidence, but Lane's name flashed up on the caller ID and Rory accepted right away.

'Hello?' she said quickly, rarely so grateful to take a call in her life.

'Rory?' Lane sounded incredibly flustered. 'Is this a good time?'

Rory frowned a little, feeling concerned as it seemed Lane was as much in need of her friend as she herself was. 'Of course, Lane, what's going on? Are you ok? Is Zack-'

'We're all fine,' Lane said dismissively. 'Anyway, you'll never guess who came into Luke's today.'

With something of a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Rory realised she knew the answer without Lane having to say anything. 'I think I know,' she said quietly.

'You'll really never guess,' Lane insisted.

'You thought you saw Dean, didn't you?' Rory asked, knowing that she'd hit the nail right on the head.

Lane didn't reply for a second and Rory knew she'd surprised her. 'Yeah,' Lane said at last, sounding confused to say the least. 'How did you-'

'I saw him too,' Rory said, quickly forestalling Lane's inevitable questions.

'You did?' Lane exclaimed. 'Oh my God! Did you talk to him?'

'It wasn't really him,' Rory explained but she knew it was in vain and Lane had already made her mind up.

'Are you sure? He looked like Dean to me.'

'I know he looked like Dean,' Rory sighed. 'Looked like him and sounded like him and smelled like him-'

'Smelled like him?' Lane repeated at once and Rory could totally picture the wry little smile she was sure to be sporting.

'Hypothetically,' Rory hastily amended.

'Hypothetically. Right.'

'Anyway,' Rory said firmly, 'it looked like him, but it wasn't. I spoke to him. He said his name's Sam and he works for the FBI.'

'Yeah, that's what the other guy with him at the diner said.'

'You mean the guy who actually introduced himself as Dean?'

'The very same,' Lane agreed. 'Which was really weird. Cute guy though. Hang on a second, did you say the FBI? What could the FBI possibly want in Stars Hollow?'

'I don't know. Something like _Men in Black_?' Rory replied, only half joking with all the weird stuff she'd encountered that day.

'Or _X Files_,' Lane suggested.

Rory gave a strange little half smile. 'Maybe. It was just...strange talking to him, you know? It would be like, I don't know, Dave Rygalski turning up years after you're completely over him.'

'I don't think Zack would be too thrilled about that,' Lane said drily. 'You know he never totally forgave Dave for leaving the band?'

'I know, but just imagine,' Rory said, hoping she didn't sound too impatient.

'Ok, John Lennon, I'm imagining.'

'Right, so, he turns up and you get to talking and he's completely different but he still looks like him...' Rory trailed off, sighing as she pushed her bangs off her face. 'I mean, we talked about books and college and journalism-'

'Rory, you talk about books with everyone you meet,' Lane reasoned.

'Not like this,' Rory insisted.

'Rory,' Lane said tentatively, 'you don't...you aren't saying you have a thing for this Sam guy, are you?'

'No!' Rory answered immediately, glad that Lane couldn't see how furiously she was suddenly blushing. 'Of course not.'

'Sure,' Lane replied, sounding totally unconvinced and Rory could tell she was in for some serious questioning that she would have no clue how to answer. At that moment, however, the sounds of a baby crying came down the line and it looked like Rory had been saved by the bell. 'Oh shoot, Steve's crying. I'll call you back later, ok?'

'Ok.' Rory disconnected the call and returned to sitting in silence with her thoughts, only now she had Lane's words rattling around in her brain too. It wasn't true what Lane had said, right? She didn't really having feelings for this Sam Webster, did she? Rory tried to ignore the rising butterflies in her stomach and the heat emanating from her blazing face as her mind drifted back to another day, all those years ago, when a tall boy with floppy hair and an easy smile made her feel something like this.

_Rory positively marched through the corridors of Chilton, her saddle shoes echoing against the crazily expensive tiled floor as she tried to get her books back. Honestly, as if this week hadn't been bad enough as it was, now that idiot Tristan had to get in on the act and mess things up even more. Insinuating that they were going on a date to see PJ Harvey, turning Paris and the whole school against her, and now snatching her books and refusing to give them back. Rory knew they were stupid, petty little things, really she did, and that Tristan was an immature child who shouldn't be given the time of day, but still she was annoyed. She wasn't herself lately, everything with Dean had kind of messed her up. Sometimes she still couldn't believe that they weren't together anymore, that their happy little relationship had come crashing down on what should have been their perfect night. Dean had become such a permanent fixture in their lives these past few months; it almost felt weird just watching movies with Mom now, instead of all three of them, and she had to keep reminding herself that she just couldn't pick up the phone and call him anymore._

_Rory missed him. She wanted to be with him again, wanted to have his comforting and reassuring presence with her again, but it didn't look like that was going to happen. Rory had gone into Doose's for the first time in weeks looking for him, only to find that he'd changed his work schedule. Then she'd gone to his house and succeeded in terrifying the wits out of his little sister before running away when she heard the sound of his voice. And finally, for the icing on the cake, she'd made a real fool of herself at the latest town meeting. All sorts of emotions were racing around inside her and when she stood up to speak, she wasn't really talking about the town troubadour at all. But then Dean was gone before she got a chance to speak to him, making it pretty clear that he had no interest in speaking to her._

_Rory supposed she ought to accept the fact that Dean had clearly moved on from the girl who threw an incredibly romantic and generous gesture and a heartfelt admission right back in his face._

_She tried not to think about it and instead focused all her attention on trying to get her books back from Tristan. The jerk had a huge, smug smile on his face and was obviously greatly enjoying her anguish as they spilled out into the bright, sunlight courtyard. Rory gave it up as a bad cause, reasoning that he'd have to give her the books back at some point and stormed away. She couldn't keep the anger out of her voice as she called, 'You're pathetic, Tristan. Keep the books. I'm leaving.'_

_And then she saw them, the very last person she expected to be standing outside Chilton. Yet there he was, all tall and gorgeous with his hair falling in his eyes, looking...extremely hurt and angry. It was at that moment Rory realised that Tristan was still standing right behind her and that Dean, seeing the two of them together, had gotten the wrong idea. Oh no. No, no, no._

_Rory left Tristan standing there, not caring if he was watching or not, as she hurried towards Dean before he got back into his car and left her there for good. Dean looked and sounded understandably angry but his eyes just looked hurt, which kind of broke her heart. She imagined him piecing together all her strange actions and making the decision to drive all the way out to Hartford, probably cutting class to do so, only to find her with Tristan._

_She tried to reason with him and explain it all but she could tell he wasn't buying it at all and it was like they were breaking up all over again. But then he let slip that he had a box - a Rory box - with all her pictures and letters, and somehow Rory knew they were going to work it out. And yet he was walking to his car._

_'Dean!' she called out desperately, probably attracting the attention of everyone in her school, potential stepfather included, but not caring one bit._

_'What?' he replied, not even looking at her._

_'Stop!' It wasn't exactly profound or well thought out but she needed him to stay, needed him to listen._

_'Why?' he said flatly, still with his back to her and one hand on the car door like he was going to leave any second._

_Suddenly, Rory knew what she had to say, knew the words that had evaded her for so long and yet it felt like the most obvious things in the world now that she really mean them and felt them. And she truly did. In that moment she was completely and utterly sure of what she was about to say._

_'Because I love you, you idiot!'_

_It was like she'd said some magic words because suddenly, everything felt right again. Her heart hammering wildly in her chest, she watched as Dean turned to look at her, his features instantly softening to the smile she felt mirrored on her own face. A second later and he was by her side - thank God for those long legs of his - and then they were together again and kissing and practically holding onto each other for dear life. Rory felt dizzy and lightheaded and so overwhelmingly happy that she never wanted the moment to end. Then their foreheads were pressed together and Rory wasn't quite sure how they were managing it and still she was holding on so tight. She remembered thinking that if things could stay this dizzyingly blissful and exciting, then it mightn't be half bad._

_At some point they must have broken apart and retrieved her books from where they lay on the ground and driven back to Stars Hollow but all that paled into insignificance. All that mattered was that Rory and Dean were back together again, as they should be, and Rory was sure she wouldn't let anything stupid come between them again._

'Lucy, I'm home!'

Rory was abruptly shocked out of her reverie by the opening of the front door and her mother's loud and customary greeting.

'Kitchen,' Rory called back.

Lorelai wandered into the kitchen, dropped her handbag onto the floor, gave a loud and dramatic sigh before sinking into a chair and dropping her head onto the table. 'What a day,' she moaned, her voice somewhat muffled by the fact she was currently pressed against the tablecloth.

'That bad, huh?' Rory asked bemusedly, her own musings momentarily pushed to the side.

Lorelai raised her head. 'Not so much bad as funny.'

Rory frowned, wondering if Lorelai had encountered Dean, or rather _Sam_, and that was her idea of funny. Then again, her mother had quite a unique sense of humour at the best of times, so there was really no telling what she was referring to.

'Funny ha ha or funny strange?' Rory questioned.

'Funny strange,' Lorelai confirmed. 'Definitely funny strange.'

'Well, that makes two of us,' Rory commented, sounding incredibly light and offhand even though her mind and emotions were going a mile a minute on the inside.

'Really?' Lorelai raised an eyebrow. 'Will I need coffee for this? What am I thinking, of course I will.'

She stood up to fill the coffee machine with water before sitting back down and looking at Rory expectantly. 'Who wants to go first?'

Rory shrugged.

'Fine. Are you sitting comfortably? Ok, so you know all the weird stuff that's been happening at the inn?'

'No,' Rory frowned.

'Yes you do,' Lorelai insisted. 'I told you all about it.'

'No, Mom, this is news to me, really,' Rory argued.

'Oh yeah, I forgot we hadn't spoken in a couple of days before you came home. It must have been Luke I told.'

'Ah yes, I can see how you would get confused,' Rory replied sarcastically.

'Well, that _my God, Lorelai is completely crazy_ look you're throwing my way right now is definitely one Luke would be proud of. Anyway, weird stuff at the inn. Ok, so I was in the library a couple of days ago when all these books started flying off the shelves.'

'Well maybe they were all New York Times bestsellers?' Rory joked.

Lorelai narrowed her eyes. 'Oh my sides,' she said drily. 'They are splitting. No, these books literally came crashing down around me and when I tried to pick one up, it snapped shut on my fingers. It was like something out of _Harry Potter_ or something.'

Rory raised her eyebrows now. 'So you think there's witchcraft going on at the Dragonfly, is that what you're saying?'

'Maybe not witchcraft. As far as I know, we haven't had any guests with green skin and an aversion to water,' Lorelai mused.

'Then what has been happening?' Rory asked a little impatiently as she was anxious to tell her own story.

'I was thinking more _Twilight Zone_,' Lorelai said seriously. 'I always thought Stars Hollow was a dimension not only of sight and sound, but of mind.'

'The fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man,' Rory added. 'Thank you, Rod Serling.'

'It's not just me!' Lorelai insisted. 'Sookie said that pots and pans were spilling in the kitchen for no reason and the maids are getting locked inside empty rooms and all Michel's things are going missing-'

'Mom, you steal Michel's stuff all the time,' Rory interjected.

Lorelai apparently chose not to hear that one. 'Anyway, all this crazy stuff's been happening and somehow word got out and all our guests cancelled their reservations for the rest of the week at least.'

'I'm sorry,' Rory said sincerely, knowing how much of a negative effect that could have on the inn's business.

'Thanks, sweetie, but we still haven't got to the funny strange bit yet.'

'Really? You've got me on the edge of my seat here.'

'Good material for my one woman show, right?' Lorelai smiled. 'So today this guy comes into the Dragonfly asking about everything and saying he was from the FBI.'

Rory's eyes widened, wondering why Lorelai hadn't thought to lead on that one. 'And did he look familiar at all?' she asked.

Lorelai frowned. 'Who, the fed? No, I don't think so.'

'Are - are you sure?' Rory blustered, suddenly feeling intensely confused. Surely she hadn't imagined it all, he really had looked like Dean, right?

'Yeah,' Lorelai said, sounding and looking curious about Rory's reaction. 'I promise he didn't look like either Mulder or Scully. He was a total male model type, though, like someone they'd get to play a fed on TV.'

'Oh. Ok then,' Rory said slowly, aware that her mom was watching her closely.

'Of course, I didn't get a look at his partner though,' Lorelai added.

Rory sat up straighter. Good. Maybe she wasn't going entirely _Girl Interrupted_ just yet.

Lorelai raised her eyebrows. 'I'm guessing you got a good look at him though. You've got that whole middle schooler with her first crush look in your eyes.'

'I do not,' Rory said hastily.

'Do too,' Lorelai argued back. 'So tell me, is he cute?'

'Yes,' Rory answered automatically. 'I mean, no. Well, yes, but that's not the point.'

'It isn't?' Lorelai asked, grinning broadly.

'No.'

'Then what is the point?' Lorelai asked bemusedly, clearly enjoying herself in spite of her earlier anguish about the inn.

'The point is, he looked just like Dean Forrester!' Rory replied, a lot louder and sharper than she intended.

Lorelai stared at her for a moment before going to retrieve two cups of coffee. After a long and fortifying drink, she said, 'Now that definitely qualifies as funny strange.'

'You're telling me,' Rory muttered after taking a sip of her own coffee. 'It was the strangest thing.'

'Same 'because you're worth it' hair?'

'Hair that could sell shampoo to a bald man,' Rory agreed.

'Dean always did have great hair,' Lorelai said appreciatively. 'You know, as much as I'm qualified to assess the quality of your former boyfriend's hair. Let me see, no offence, but Logan always looked too coiffed, you know what I mean? Like all his family's money was spent exclusively on making his hair look immaculate. Jess did have good hair, to be fair, but I always thought he used too much product, you know?'

Lorelai broke off abruptly at Rory's involuntary flinch. 'Fair enough, maybe it was the style back then, but I'm telling you, if someone ever struck a match in his vicinity, the kid would have gone up in flames.' Since Rory still hadn't spoken, Lorelai apparently tried to use another tactic. 'Ok, fine, you want to take a crack at Luke's hair? Not that you'd be able to tell underneath that damned baseball cap. You can talk about your dad's hair if you really want, but half of that went to you, sweetie, so I don't know how much good it would do.'

Rory tried to raise a smile but everything she'd encountered that day was still too fresh and weird in her mind, so she just couldn't manage it. Judging by the sudden narrowing of her eyes, Lorelai had most definitely noticed.

'Rory?' she said uncertainly.

'I'm fine,' Rory answered quickly. 'It's just, you mentioned Jess and-'

Lorelai rolled her eyes. 'Please don't tell me that Jess' identical twin showed up as well,' she groaned.

'Not quite.'

'Not quite?' Lorelai repeated. 'Oh, I'm intrigued. Tell me more!'

'Well, Rizzo, I was talking to this guy who looked like Dean-'

'But not the guy who was actually called Dean,' Lorelai added.

'Right. That was the other guy, he came over later. Anyway, I was talking to this guy, Sam, and he mentions his girlfriend and he said her name was Jess!'

Lorelai seemed rather unimpressed and Rory felt, weirdly, a little offended and confused by her lack of reaction. 'I always thought Jess was kind of a girly name,' she commented lightly. 'Then again, Liz did name her second kid Doula so maybe Jess got off lightly.'

Rory frowned. 'You don't think that's a little weird?' she asked, still waiting for a better reaction.

'Sure it's a little weird,' Lorelai answered gently, 'but, honey, I think you're looking too much into this.'

Rory opened her mouth to make some kind of response but Lorelai forestalled her. 'Listen, it's ok. You saw this guy, he looked like Dean and it freaked you out. I get it.'

'But his girlfriend being called Jess?' Rory pointed out, hearing herself getting louder and more agitated but unable to help herself.

'Yeah, it's weird,' Lorelai agreed, 'but I don't think it's anything to get worked up about.'

'And what about the other guy being called Dean?' Rory was persistent.

'It's not like Dean is the most unusual name in the world.'

'You don't get it,' Rory insisted. 'When we were talking, it was like, I don't know, like he _knew _me or something.'

'Maybe he reads the magazine and recognised your name?' Lorelai suggested.

'No, that's not it,' Rory said, not meaning to sound as dismissive as she did. 'When we were talking, he was asking all these questions, but it was like he already knew all the answers, you know?'

Lorelai nodded along, smiling sympathetically, but Rory could tell her mom was just humouring her to make her feel better. Maybe Lorelai was right and she really was overreacting. Rory tried to stifle the little voice in the back of her head that said she wasn't overreacting at all and her freak out was totally justified. A drastic change of subject, she decided, was definitely needed.

'So where's Luke tonight?' she asked, hoping she sounded all light and calm and not like she was still freaking out inside.

Lorelai, if she noticed Rory's ongoing inner turmoil, made no mention of it. 'Oh, he's in New Mexico for the weekend,' she answered. 'April has a science fair, so he wanted to go see her.' She suddenly jumped up and practically ran to open the take-out menu drawer; the one thing her mother kept meticulously organised, Rory noted with a fond smile. 'Which means, he won't be here nagging us to eat something healthy. What are you in the mood for? We've got pizza, Chinese...oh! Al's Pancake World has just started doing seafood again and it's so disgusting you have to eat it to believe it.'

Ten minutes later and the pizza had been ordered, Rory wisely decided to avoid Al's seafood, and the two of them sat on the couch, having one of their frequent, light hearted arguments about which movie to watch. Rory was putting on a good show of arguing against _Dirty Dancing_ for the millionth time, but really she was just going through the motions. However much she pretended otherwise, her encounter with the FBI agents had really messed with her head and she just couldn't shake it.

'What daughter of mine doesn't want to watch _Dirty Dancing_?' Lorelai asked, in her most overly dramatic tone. 'I am hurt. I am offended. I am writing you out of my will and leaving all my fortune to my favourite daughter, Shmory. She would never put Baby in a corner like that.'

'We've watched it at least a hundred times,' Rory pointed out, 'and every time you try to act out the lift. We are not repeating the great lift disaster of '03.'

'Fine,' Lorelai huffed. 'I'd suggest _Casa Blanca_ but last time I watched it, Paul Anka got all freaked out. I had to add it to the list of things the stupid dog is afraid of.' She sighed dramatically and reached for the remote. 'This thing has like a gazillion channels, I'm sure we can find something.'

'Yeah, good idea,' Rory added, more for something to say than any real interest.

Lorelai pointed the remote at the TV and it sprang into life at once; some obscure channel was halfway through a showing of _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory._

'Oh shoot, we missed the beginning,' Lorelai said, but that wasn't exactly the issue on Rory's mind.

This was _their_ film, her and Dean's; the film they had watched together on their very first date, albeit with Lorelai in tow. Though they'd watched an ungodly amount of movies together, the first one had always remained special, like it was theirs and theirs alone. Even the song Rory had deemed to be theirs after their first night together had been the movie's opening number. Now here it was, in all its Technicolor glory after she'd had a run in with Dean's double. Surely that was too much of a coincidence?

Lorelai, meanwhile, was continuing on a very different train of thought. 'I can't believe after all these years that we still don't have our own copy of this movie. On the one hand, we don't have nearly enough junk food to watch it with, pizza notwithstanding. On the other, the time it takes to run down to Doose's would be too much Wonka wastage, you know?'

'Solidarity, sister,' Rory muttered distractedly.

'Rory, what is it?' Lorelai asked, apparently noticing that she wasn't quite giving 100%.

'You really don't remember? This film, this living room, pizza, junk food, me you...'

'Dean,' Lorelai finished. 'Woah, that's weird.'

'You're telling me,' Rory said quietly, taking control of the remote and abruptly switching the TV off again.

'Rory-' Lorelai began in vain.

'What would the FBI even want in Stars Hollow anyway?' Rory suddenly burst out. 'I mean, all that stuff you described, that's not really in their line of work, is it? And how did they even find out about it, I can't really see a small town in Connecticut being high up in their priorities, can you?'

'They were working a case in Hartford,' Lorelai explained quickly. 'Nothing to do with your grandma, I checked. Anyway, they were in Hartford, caught wind of what was happening at the Dragonfly and came along to investigate.'

'What exactly do they think they're investigating?' Rory asked. 'I mean, what kind of questions were they asking?'

Lorelai shrugged. 'That not-Dean guy called Dean just wanted to know what had happened, I told him, and then he asked if I'd heard any weird noises or if there were any weird smells or cold spots.'

Rory's eyes widened. 'You didn't think that sounded suspicious?' she asked incredulously.

'I'm not usually in the habit of being interrogated by the FBI,' Lorelai answered defensively. 'What are you saying?'

'I don't know,' Rory said quietly, 'I really don't. I've just got a...a kind of uneasy feeling about all this.'

'Get your coat,' Lorelai said suddenly as she hastily got to her feet.

'Why?'

'We're putting this to rest. Come on, we're going to the inn.'

Rory was unsure where her mother's sudden burst of energy came from but followed Lorelai nonetheless through the house and out to the car, pizza delivery be damned. As she buckled her seatbelt, another thought occurred to her.

'Did these guys give you the number of their boss or the office they work for?'

Lorelai shook her head. 'That seems kind if shady, huh?'

'Just a little.'

As if in response, Lorelai quickly started up the car and backed out into the street. 'At least this will all be private,' she said. 'I don't really want word getting out into the town.'

Rory frowned. 'What do you mean private?'

'Well, there aren't any other guests, and the night manager took the week off since things were so slow,' Lorelai explained.

Rory shifted in her seat a little so she could stare at her mom with wide eyed incredulity. 'You left those guys alone at the inn?'

'They were pretty big guys, Rory, I didn't think they needed a babysitter.'

'But if they aren't who they say they are, then who knows what they could be doing-'

'Ok, I get it,' Lorelai snapped.

Rory fell silent, watching Stars Hollow rush past the car window as Lorelai urged the car ever faster towards the Dragonfly.

'You think we should bring some reinforcements?' she couldn't help but ask.

Lorelai actually snorted derisively at that. 'Like who, Kirk?'

Rory rolled her eyes. 'No, of course not. I was just thinking, since Luke's away, maybe we should call Jackson. Or Zack maybe, or Andrew?'

Lorelai shook her head. 'We'll be fine,' she said confidently. 'We're just going to go in and calmly speak to these guys, alright? No need to call for back up.'

Rory felt like pointing out that her mother rarely did anything calmly but instead said, 'Ok. If you're sure.'

The rest of the car journey passed in an uneasy silence with Lorelai clutching the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were white and Rory staring resolutely ahead, both deep in thought about what they would find at the inn. In seemingly no time at all, they had pulled up next to the only other car in the inn's parking lot and Lorelai shut off the engine.

'It seems to be all quiet on the western front,' she commented, gazing up at the inn, which seemed as innocuous as ever.

'Shall we?' Rory gestured towards the Dragonfly.

'I feel like we're about to hold hands and drive off a cliff.'

'Well come on then, Thelma.'

Together they exited the car and walked up the path. Neither said it aloud but Rory was sure her mom was feeling the same uneasy mixture of nerves and anticipation. Just what on earth were they getting themselves into? The rational part of Rory's brain tried to argue that there still could be a perfectly reasonable and innocent explanation for all this, but it was kind of hard to realise that in the heat of the moment.

'Here goes nothing,' Lorelai whispered as they reached the front door.

Rory barely had time to brace herself before the door was opening and before she could even begin to comprehend the scene in front of her, the sound of her mom's angriest voice filled the air.

'What the hell is going on here?'

**A/N: Since this is a Gilmore Girls/Supernatural crossover, I thought it was only fair to let those Gilmores, well Rory at least, have their say. I thought at first this chapter had too much dialogue, but then I remembered the characters I was writing! As always, thanks for your continued interest in this story and any and all reviews, follows or favourites are gladly appreciated. **


	8. Chapter 8

As the inn's front door burst open and an angry voice filled the air, Dean instinctively lowered his arms and in one deft motion, stuffed the hex bags into his pocket and made sure that the gun tucked into his waistband was completely hidden by his shirt. A quick sideways glance towards Sam, however, confirmed that his brother had done no such thing. Either Sam's head still wasn't totally in the game from all the day's weird events or he was just getting slow in his old age. Whatever the reason, his usually lightning reflexes, rivalled only by Dean himself, just weren't working and instead he remained frozen on the spot. It mightn't have been so bad but for the fact that apart from the salt loaded shotgun he held in one hand, he also had an iron crowbar sticking out of his back pocket. Dean may have known that the crowbar was only for warding off spirits and the gun was loaded with harmless rock salt, but whoever had just walked in on them obviously wouldn't. And wasn't that just awesome?

Dean's eyes flickered towards the source of the disturbance and found that, of course, it was Lorelai freakin' Gilmore who had decided to pay them a visit. And yes, there was Rory lurking uncomfortably behind her. This was just what they needed. Dean wasn't all that bothered; he was pretty sure he could get rid of them both without too much trouble, but Sam, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter. Now his brother was going to get all freaked out again, which wouldn't be much help with a poltergeist on their asses.

'What the hell is going on here?' Lorelai repeated, looking about a millisecond away from exploding.

'It's not what it looks like,' Sam blurted out, his face suddenly blazing with embarrassment as three pairs of eyes turned to lock onto him.

'You know, I didn't believe that line in _Working Girl_ and I certainly don't believe it not,' Lorelai retorted, folding her arms across her chest. 'It looks like you're about to trash my inn with a freakin' crowbar!'

'Then it's exactly what it looks like,' Dean replied, momentarily averting attention away from Sam. 'But we'll tidy up afterwards, so if you could just give us, like, an hour tops-'

Lorelai gave a hollow sort of laugh. 'Yeah right, like I'm going to let you two run amok in my inn. Who do you think you are, Led Zeppelin?'

Dean felt like explaining that yes, he did do a pretty good rendition of Zep's _Ramble On_, but now was hardly the time. Instead he replied, 'If you want your inn to stay standing, then you should get yourselves out of the way,' noticing too late the look Sam was currently throwing his way that quite clearly said 'shut the hell up.'

Lorelai raised her eyebrows, looking incredulous and Dean was willing to bet that she rarely found anyone willing to argue with her. 'You have about ten seconds to explain yourselves before I call the police!'

Dean stayed silent for a second, contemplating how much to actually tell her, at the same time Rory muttered, 'Way to do things calmly, Mom.'

'It's kind of a time sensitive issue,' Sam said quickly, apparently regaining his capacity to think as he finally lowered the shotgun.

Lorelai turned to look at Sam again and it was like she was really noticing him for the first time. Dean watched recognition slowly dawn over her face, saw her eyes widening in surprise and he couldn't help but roll his own eyes. He couldn't even imagine how much it had to be bothering Sam. He himself was sick to the back teeth of it all and it wasn't even his face they were ogling.

'_Sam's_ right,' Dean said hastily, placing a heavy emphasis on his brother's name to get them all back to the point at hand. 'This is time sensitive. You two get out of here, we'll do our job and then we'll explain everything.'

Of course he had no intention of doing any such thing. All being well, Lorelai and Rory would take a damn hint and get the hell out of dodge, leaving them in peace to purify the inn and get rid of the poltergeist. Then, with any luck, they could be on the road, leaving Stars Hollow behind without a backwards glance. They could work out the connection with Sam's dreams from the safety of a city two states over, or better still, forget all about it.

Lorelai opened her mouth like she was about to make another angry retort and still Rory stood just behind her, her eyes darting nervously between Sam and her mom. It was of course at that moment that the ornaments above the fireplace in the living room began crashing to the ground, like they were bored by all the talk and were eager to bring the action along. A second later and all the framed pictures on the walls decided they wanted in on the action to and joined the smashed ornaments on the floor. Dean swore under his breath. He had been afraid of this happening. No matter how much Lorelai might have been annoying him at that particular moment, he never wanted civilians getting caught up in the job.

'Get out of here,' he said urgently to Lorelai and Rory. 'Now!' he added when they didn't move but instead remained rooted to the spot, eyes wide in confusion and fear.

'What's-' Lorelai began but Dean cut her off before they wasted any more precious time.

'Don't worry,' he said quickly, 'we'll handle it. Just go!'

Dean guessed that it was probably a first for her, but Lorelai didn't argue. Instead she grabbed a thoroughly shell shocked looking Rory by the wrist and pulled her towards the door. The second she put her hand on the door handle, however, she instantly pulled back, letting out an audible gasp.

'What's wrong?' Sam, Dean and Rory all asked in unison.

'It burned me!' Lorelai moaned at the same time as all the files and papers on the inn's front desk began blowing round the room, like they'd been caught in a violent gust of wind.

'Dean, we need to get them out of here,' Sam muttered.

'You think?' Dean snapped, running to the door himself. 'Let me see that.'

Just like Lorelai said, the door handle was indeed burning hot. Scowling, Dean put his shoulder to the door and pushed as hard as he could - to no avail. 'Sam! Little help here?' he grunted. Sam came over at once, but even Gigantor's brute strength was no help.

'Back door!' Dean breathed out heavily. 'I'll bring them through. Sam, you start with the hex bags, ok?' Sam nodded and Dean turned back to the girls. 'You two, come with me-'

'I swear to God, if you finish that with _if you want to live_,' Lorelai grumbled but she followed Dean through to the kitchen, still keeping a tight grip on Rory's wrist.

Passing the fireplace, Dean snatched up the iron poker, just in case the inn's uninvited guest decided to put in an appearance. 'Keep your eyes peeled,' he called over his shoulder as he raised the poker.

'For what?' Lorelai asked.

'Trust me, you really don't know what to do,' Dean replied, ushering them into the kitchen and towards the back door.

'Trust me, I really do.'

Dean rolled his eyes. 'Ok then. How would you feel if I told you we're dealing with a poltergeist?'

'A what?' Rory said in a panic. 'But, I, what are you saying?'

'That we have a pissed off poltergeist on our asses and you need to get out of here,' Dean stated simply. 'We'll come find you later and explain it all, I promise-'

The rest of his words were cut short by the small matter of the large kitchen dresser suddenly sliding across the floor and completely blocking the back door. Rory, who had jumped aside to avoid being hit by the dresser, stared at Dean in wide eyed incredulity.

'What was that?' she whispered, her face a perfect expression of utmost fear and confusion.

'That would be a poltergeist,' Dean explained, his eyes darting round the kitchen for what he needed.

'I always hated that movie,' Lorelai muttered, eyeing the dresser warily.

'You're telling me. Anyway, you've got a poltergeist and it looks like it doesn't want you to leave.'

'But that isn't...can't be real,' Rory blurted out.

If the situation wasn't verging into the dangerous side of things then Dean might just have laughed at that one. 'Hate to break it to you, sister, but it looks pretty real from where I'm standing.' He broke off, still searching for what he needed. 'Seriously?' he snapped. 'What kind of a kitchen doesn't have any freakin' salt?'

Lorelai shrugged. 'I don't know. Sookie's been trying out a new healthy, low sodium menu but I think there should be some somewhere.'

Dean rolled his eyes. 'Thanks for the help,' he muttered.

'I don't work in the kitchen,' she retorted. 'And what do you want with salt anyway? I don't think this is the time to go all Barefoot Countessa, do you?'

'Salt wards off spirits,' Dean explained hurriedly, finally spotting a large canister of salt residing, for some reason, on top of the refrigerator. 'Yahtzee!'

'Of course it does,' Lorelai rolled her eyes but her expression immediately shifted to one of intense bewilderment as Dean began to make a circle of salt around her and Rory. 'What on earth are you doing now?'

'I just told you, salt wards off spirits. The poltergeist can't come near you if you stay inside this circle, kapesh?'

'And Luke says I use too much salt,' Lorelai added to Rory, like she was trying to make her daughter smile.

'It's going to be ok,' Dean said sincerely, seeing that both of them, despite Lorelai's apparent bravado, were completely freaked out.

'Dean! Hurry up with the hex bags!' Sam called from the next room.

'You wouldn't happen to know where the south and west walls are, would you?'

Mutely, Lorelai pointed out where he needed to go and continued to watch in disbelief as he fished the hex bags out of his pocket. 'You might want to shut your eyes for this bit,' he added, with the thought that she mightn't want to see him knocking holes in her walls.

'My God, what are you doing now?' she groaned, but nonetheless, she and Rory both took his advice. They mightn't have seen him picking up a heavy frying pan and slamming it into the back wall, but judging by their simultaneous flinches, they certainly heard it.

'You are so cleaning this up afterwards,' Lorelai muttered, her eyes still clenched shut.

'Noted,' Dean forced out through gritted teeth, stuffing the hex bag through the crack in the wall. One down...

He repeated the process on the remaining wall, noting that apart from the dresser incident, the poltergeist didn't seem to be putting up much of a fight. As contrary and backwards as that might have sounded, Dean wasn't taking that as a good sign. Poltergeists usually made their anger pretty clear in these types of situations. Hell, last time he had nearly been skewered by an entire drawer full of knives, and Sam had almost been murdered by a lamp. The fact that this one was being relatively quiet was weird, to say the least. Either it was saving all its energies for a big blow out towards the end, or it really wasn't a poltergeist at all and some ghost was having a laugh watching them run around like idiots. Dean frowned. Their original idea of going in half assed and making things up as they went along was all well and good when it was just him and Sam, but not now that Lorelai and Rory had been thrown into the mix too. Dean resolved to help Sam with the rest of the hex bags, with the hope that it really was a poltergeist they could deal with quickly, and then get the two girls out of harm's way as soon as was humanly possible.

'You two, stay inside that circle at all times,' Dean said firmly. 'No matter what you see, or hear, it can't get to you as long as you stay behind the salt line.'

Lorelai looked unconvinced and Dean prayed to whoever was listening that she wasn't about to start arguing. 'And you're sure that salt can really-'

He cut her off, knowing exactly where this was going. 'Salt repels spirits,' he said again, 'and that's all there is to it. I don't make the rules, I just enforce them.'

'Whatever you say, Captain Munsey.'

Dean's eyes widened in surprise. If ever there was a time to make some obscure reference, then this certainly wasn't it. He was beginning to see why his own bravado in the face of danger always seemed to annoy Sam so much. 'Captain who? You know what, never mind. Take this.' He handed the iron poker to Rory, who took it gingerly, like she was afraid it was going to bite her.

'So ghosts are afraid of fire pokers to?'

'Just the ones made of iron,' Dean corrected. 'Which, luckily, is what this one right here is made of.'

'Well, I for one, feel incredibly lucky,' Lorelai replied sarcastically. 'If you combined a four leaf clover and a box of Lucky Charms, then you wouldn't even come close to the luck I'm feeling right now.'

'Yeah, well, the night is young. I'm going to go help Sam, you stay in that damn circle, then I'll be back, ok? I'll explain everything later.'

As if in response, Rory raised the poker, though Dean noted she still looked understandably freaked and Lorelai nodded, a most determined expression on her face. 'Heard you loud and clear, Arnie, now get a move on.'

Dean was almost tempted to reply with another quote, he appreciated a good _Terminator_ reference as much as the next guy, but he knew he'd already wasted enough time. Instead, he yelled, 'Stay inside the circle!' one last time for good measure before leaving the girls alone, against his better judgement, and rushing off to find Sam.

Sam was halfway up the staircase when Dean skidded to a halt at the foot of the stairs.

'What took you so long?' Sam called over his shoulder, leading the way up the remaining stairs.

'Those girls can talk, man,' Dean explained, and in spite of the situation, Sam had to stifle a smile. 'They wanted to know what was going on, I gave them the edited version, then the freakin' dresser blocked the door.'

Sam stopped dead in his tracks and Dean ran straight into the back of him. 'Dude, what the hell?' came the muffled voice of a very disgruntled Dean.

'They're still here?' Sam asked, afraid of the forthcoming answer.

Dean nodded, and Sam noted that he didn't look pleased about the situation at all. 'This thing doesn't want them to leave. I figured we get rid of its sorry ass instead of wasting time looking for the escape pod.'

'I suppose you're right,' Sam replied, unable to keep a distinct tone of unease out of his voice.

'Sammy, I don't like it anymore than you do,' Dean said sincerely. 'But as far as I can tell, it isn't trying to hurt anyone. It just wants us all here, for some reason.'

'I guess we better get a move on then. You want to take the south and west walls again?' Sam asked.

'If it ain't broke, don't fix it,' Dean shrugged.

'If you say so. After this floor, we've only got the attic to do and then we can get Rory and Lorelai out of here,' Sam continued.

Dean frowned. 'I thought you said this place had a basement too?'

'It does. I already took care of it.'

Dean's frown deepened and Sam could tell he was in for one of his big brother's reprimands, which he could really be doing without today. 'What happened to us not splitting up on this case?' he questioned.

'Well, you were busy with the girls-' he broke off at the sudden smirk on Dean's face. 'Grow up, Dean, don't blame me for your filthy mind. Anyway, you were occupied and I wasn't just going to sit there doing nothing.'

'And it all went ok?' Dean sounded doubtful. 'No hitches or murderous lamps?'

Sam rolled his eyes. Honestly, that lamp incident had only ever happened the one time and Dean seemed determined to never let him live it down. From the way Dean told the story, he made it sound like Sam was strangled by the power cords of lamps every day of the week.

'No murderous lamps,' Sam replied in his most deadpan voice. 'No murderous anything. It all seemed kind of-'

'Too easy?' Dean suggested. 'Yeah, I know the feeling. Like Lorelai and Rory getting trapped in the kitchen where the salt was? Or the poker just happening to be made of iron? I mean, when does that ever happen?'

The brothers shared similar looks of unease but neither made any more mention of it. Instead, Sam pulled the next two hex bags out of his inside pocket and cocked the salt loaded shotgun once more.

'Ready?' he asked, preparing to take care of the north and east walls.

'I was born ready,' Dean predictably replied.

'Course you were,' Sam muttered under his breath.

Sam quickly put his shoulder against one of the bedroom doors and easily forced it open, his momentum carrying him over the threshold and into the room. He stubbornly pushed away memories that suddenly came rising to the surface of his mind. Yes, maybe in his dream, he was the one who fitted the actual door onto this room, and the one who helped restore the antique fireplace and the one who hung the curtains about ten minutes before the inn opened its doors for the first time. Those memories, Dean Forrester's memories, were right there in his mind's eye but that wasn't important right now. Dean may have been the one to help build the Dragonfly, but Sam was going to be the one to help save it. Any trepidation he had about hacking into the room's immaculate wallpaper was quickly dispelled by the thought of Rory and Lorelai trapped downstairs in the kitchen. Hopefully Dean had had the sense to put down a salt line, but even still, the idea of the Gilmores being caught up with a poltergeist wasn't exactly a pleasant one.

Without a moment to lose, Sam swung his crowbar into the wall above the bed, leaving a crack just large enough to stuff the next hex bag in. When that was done, he quickly moved on, trying not to dwell on the fact that the poltergeist didn't seem too bothered. None of the three lamps in the room had made any advances towards him, as he would be sure to tell Dean, though when they collided on the hallway, he didn't quite have the time.

'Our room had a south facing wall,' Dean was muttering under his breath. 'Figures.'

'Whatever, just hurry,' Sam urged. 'I need to get the trap door to the attic open too.'

'Whatever, just hurry,' Dean mocked in his best impression of Dean's voice.

Sam didn't even deign to reply, but instead started towards the bedroom with the eastern wall, still carrying the so far useless salt gun. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean opening the door to their room - and a split second later, he saw the door slam shut, the force it of it sending Dean flying back out into the hallway. Horror dawning on him, Sam changed direction at once, but still he arrived too late to stop Dean cracking his head on the banister and sliding to a crumpled heap on the carpet.

'Dean!' Sam yelled at the same time two concerned voices came floating up from downstairs. 'What's going on?'

'Nothing!' Sam shouted back, seeing no reason to worry them just yet - that was his MO.

He dropped to his knees beside Dean, giving the prone form that was his brother a tentative and gentle shake on the shoulder. 'Dean?' he called, trying to keep the panic out of his voice as he used his other hand to tap Dean's cheek. 'Come on, buddy, are you with me?'

To Sam's immense relief, it only took a second or two for Dean's eyelids to flutter open. Letting out a loud sigh of relief, Sam sat back on his heels as Dean's eyes screwed up tight again before he blinked blearily several times in quick succession. That little voice in the back of his head, the one that just never knew when to quit, tried to remind Sam that there would come a time, in the not too distant future, when Dean's lifeless body wouldn't be roused at all. But not today, not now, and that was the important thing.

'Son of a bitch,' Dean groaned, trying to sit up before Sam firmly laid a hand on his shoulder to keep him down. 'Think we..think we found the, uh, the...' he trailed off, wincing as he touched the back of his head where he'd collided with the banister.

'The poltergeist?' Sam suggested, frowning as he took in Dean's slightly unfocused eyes.

'That's it,' Dean muttered vaguely, his eyelids sliding shut again.

'Hate to break it to you, Dean, but you're sitting the rest of this one out,' Sam said firmly.

'Like...hell I am,' Dean said, in what was clearly supposed to be a forceful and determined tone. The effect was somewhat ruined, however, by the colour draining from his face and the pale pallor it left behind.

'Sorry, Dean, but the commander in chief position automatically transfers to me when you can't even string a full sentence together,' Sam apologised, the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach increasing tenfold as he watched Dean slide further down until he was practically flat on his back.

It was a testament to how bad that knock on the head must have been that Dean didn't put up much of a fight. Sam knew that if Dean had been totally in the right mind, there would be no way he'd just lie there and let Sam go off on his own. Still frowning, Sam gave Dean a reassuring pat on the knee before standing up, feeling decidedly uncomfortable now. As much as he didn't want to leave a concussed Dean lying all by himself, he knew there was no question of dragging his brother along to distribute the remaining hex bags, especially since they needed to climb a rickety ladder to the attic. For a second or two, he briefly debated helping Dean downstairs and leaving him in Rory and Lorelai's no doubt capable hands, but quickly dismissed the idea. The time it would take was time they didn't really have right now and Sam didn't want to further hurt Dean by rushing him downstairs. No, it was better to quickly finish the job so he could turn all his attention to getting Dean the help he needed and getting Rory and Lorelai out of here, right? Whether or not that was the right course of action remained to be seen, but it was the best plan Sam had right now, so it would have to do. Crouching down again, Sam unloaded two shells from the shotgun and burst them open, spreading the white crystals of salt in an untidy circle round Dean's still form. It wasn't very much but Sam needed to keep a few shells, in case the poltergeist decided to come after him. He'd be no good to anyone if it decided to thump him on the back of the head too.

'I'll be right back, ok?' Sam said quickly. 'Listen, Dean, you can't go to sleep, alright? Sing the greatest hits of mullet rock, list every girl you've ever dated, I don't care, just find some way to stay awake!'

'Whatever...Sammy,' Dean muttered, his eyes already closed.

Sam frowned, hesitating for a second before the urgency of the situation kicked his brain into overdrive and he ran as fast as he could towards their room to finish Dean's job. Bracing himself, he wrenched open the door, half expecting to get thrown back like Dean. Apparently, the poltergeist decided one concussed Winchester was enough and Sam made it safely into the room. The bashing in of the wall and the subsequent delivery of the hex bag passed without incident and soon Sam was running to find the east wall, his original destination before Dean had gotten hurt.

'Still with me, Dean?' he called, receiving a vague sort of grunt in return.

Sam tried not to worry about Dean as he entered the final room, but the very concept of him not being concerned was too alien to comprehend. As he crossed the threshold of the bedroom with the elusive eastern wall, it occurred to him that he hadn't performed any of the standard protocol following Dean's head injury. It wasn't like he hadn't had plenty of practice in the past. He hadn't even checked for blood or a bump before dashing off. Sam could practically hear his dad's most disapproving voice, berating him for letting his emotions get in the way of his practical logic. Besides, it wasn't like Sam hadn't had plenty of practice with his brother's lifeless body either.

So distracted in thought was he that Sam barely registered smashing into the wall and stuffing in another hex bag, again with no show on the spirit front. If the poltergeist could continue to ignore him so he could finish off the job then that would be just great.

Sam spilled out into the hallway again, grateful that the crumpled position Dean lay in was in the same direction as the attic door, so he could kill two birds with the one stone, as it were.

'How you holding up, Dean?' he called loudly, casting a look back at his brother as he fumbled with the latch on the attic door.

Dean made no reply and he didn't seem to have moved but the protective salt line hadn't been disturbed and Sam reasoned that he ought to take comfort in that fact. Small miracles and all that. With any luck, the poltergeist had had its fill of torturing Dean. Sam inwardly scoffed at the thought, with _their _luck, the spirit had now, more than likely, decided to turn its attention to other areas, namely Sam, Rory and Lorelai.

Sam succeeded in unlatching the door in the ceiling, glad that his height meant he didn't have to go in search of something to stand on, then quickly stood back, allowing the wooden ladder to descend to the ground.

'I'll be right back, Dean,' Sam said unnecessarily, knowing that Dean couldn't hear, but needing to offer the sentiment regardless.

Testing his frame on the first rung and finding that, despite how spindly it looked, it adequately supported him, Sam climbed up the ladder as fast as he could. Breathing heavily from all the evening's exertions, he eased himself into the pitch black of the attic and swore furiously. Just what he needed; potentially fighting a poltergeist in the dark with nobody to watch his back. He quickly felt in all his pockets but while his fingers brushed up against the hex bags - thank God Dean had thought to make extra - he wasn't carrying a flashlight or, hell, even a freakin' book of matches. Cursing again, Sam realised that Dean would have his own trusty lighter in his jacket pocket as usual, but that wasn't exactly helpful at the moment. He didn't relish the thought of climbing down, and then up, the ladder again if the spirit was in the vicinity. It would be the easiest thing in the world for it to send Sam crashing down in a sprawled heap beside Dean.

No, Sam decided that the square of light in the floor that the attic door afforded him, and the small screen of his cell phone would have to do. After all, he had successfully bashed in nine walls to purify the inn this evening, what difference was another four, even in the dark?

Holding his phone out in front of him, Sam stretched out his other arm, scouting out the darkness for hidden obstacles. He felt absurd, like a little kid playing blind man's bluff and he was almost glad Dean wasn't watching him. Sam was pretty sure Dean would be doubled over with laughter at this point, had he been up to it. As it was, he edged timidly forward, his hand swiping madly at the air. He vaguely remembered Lorelai in the dream saying that the attic would be mostly used for storing Christmas decorations, but it wouldn't really do for Sam to impale himself on an artificial Christmas tree. That made him think of the pagan god couple back in Michigan which lead to bittersweet memories of potentially his last Christmas with Dean. Sam gave himself a shake; this was hardly the time or place to be pursuing such thoughts.

Suddenly, Sam's outstretched palm was flat against the wall and he knew he'd met his target without encountering anything untoward. The job kind of required two hands, so he decided to stow his phone back in his pocket, it wasn't like he was getting much light from it anyway, and instead gripped the old reliable crowbar with two hands.

'Here we go again,' he muttered to himself, just hoping to fill a little of the oppressive silence.

Sam had done this so many times tonight that his hands were working on autopilot while the rest of him was on high alert. But there were no sudden drops in temperature, no apparitions, nothing to suggest that he wasn't just taking a crowbar to the walls for the sheer heck of it. One down, two, three...

As he made his ungainly way over to the final wall, Sam was poised and ready for whatever the poltergeist chose to throw his way. If ever the thing was going to show itself to him, then now was its final opportunity. But it didn't. Sam swung his crowbar through the air for the final time, bracing himself for a fight that didn't come, and pushing the last hex bag into the resulting hole as fast as his slightly trembling hands would allow him. He wasn't sure what he was expecting now that the ritual was complete and the Dragonfly was presumably purified. Sam half expected to see the spirit going up in flames, screaming curses at him, like he'd witnessed hundreds of times before on salt and burn missions. But now - nothing. Sam frowned, wondering if there was something they'd missed, some vital step they'd left out, because this just didn't feel like a closed case. He tried to reason that he just felt this way because of the so far unsolved connection with his dreams, and resolved to go over the place with the EMF meter as soon as Rory and Lorelai were out of the way...Rory, Lorelai...Dean!

Cursing himself for getting so distracted while the Gilmores were still trapped downstairs and, more pressingly, a concussed Dean was lying unconscious, Sam headed straight for the ladder. He internally scolded himself for not just taking the spook's non appearance as a blessing rather than trying to figure it all out while he could have been doing something more helpful and productive.

Sam jumped the last few rungs, landing slightly unsteadily on the floor below before running to tend to Dean, skidding to a halt at his brother's side. Dean, Sam was pleased to see, was showing signs of stirring and Sam was forced to consider that maybe they were in for a bit of luck tonight after all.

'Hey,' he said gently, crouching down beside Dean again. 'How are you feeling?'

Dean groaned by way of response and briefly opened his eyes. 'Freakin' poltergeist,' he murmured a little later.

Sam smiled. 'Tell me about it, dude, but it's all taken care of now.' He decided not to divulge his feeling that maybe this wasn't all over just yet, at least not until they got Rory and Lorelai to safety.

Dean accepted Sam's words without argument. 'You ok, Sammy?'

'I'm fine, Dean,' Sam answered, somewhat truthfully. 'I never seen saw the thing. It just seemed to take a liking to you.'

'No lamps?' Even in his concussed state, Dean, it seemed, was unable to let that particular one go.

'Glad you're feeling better,' Sam said drily. 'Think you can make it downstairs?'

Dean gave Sam a look that quite clearly meant that of course he could make it downstairs, what kind of a moron did Sam take him for? Even still, Sam carefully helped him to a sitting position before practically lifting him to his feet. When Dean swayed alarmingly, Sam wasted no time in draping Dean's arm over his shoulder and supporting most of his brother's weight.

'Are you ok?' he asked concernedly, practically carrying his silent, and incidentally heavy, brother down the stairs.

'Just waiting for the, uh...spinning to stop,' Dean forced out through gritted teeth, clearly fighting against a wave of nausea Sam knew only too well. 'Quit fussing, Doogie Howser.'

Thankful that the staircase wasn't a particularly long one, Sam continued to hold Dean up as they made their awkward way towards the kitchen.

'I'll get a proper look at your head soon, ok?' Sam promised, opening the kitchen door with his elbow and pulling Dean in after him. 'We'll just tell Rory and Lorelai it's safe for them to go home.'

Looking like a pair of losing contestants in a three legged race, Sam and Dean entered the kitchen together and Sam expected Rory and Lorelai to be behind the salt line, understandably freaked out and scared. He certainly didn't expect Rory to be brandishing an iron poker at them while Lorelai hurled a handful of salt at his face. Then again, given all he knew about them, maybe he shouldn't have been surprised at all.

'Take that you winged spawn of Satan!' Lorelai cried, throwing her next handful of salt at Dean.

Sam expected Dean to be annoyed but instead he laughed and wiped his face with the arm that wasn't currently wrapped round Sam's shoulder. '_Ace Ventura?_' he asked Lorelai. 'Really?'

Seeing it was them and nothing more suspicious, Rory dropped the poker to the ground with a sheepish smile and Lorelai shrugged.

'I was under pressure. First thing I thought of,' she explained, before taking in the condition if the two men in front of her. 'Oh my God, are you ok? What happened? Did you get it?'

'We're fine,' Dean said dismissively and Sam frowned, thinking that if Dean really was as fine as he made out, then maybe he could stop leaning so heavily on Sam. 'Congratulations, ladies,' Dean continued, sounding incredibly suave and not like someone who couldn't even stand up on his own right now. 'You just took part in your first monster hunt.'

**A/N: Here we are, and I hope everyone enjoys the first interaction between all the Gilmores and Winchesters, there'll be plenty more in the chapters to come. In this chapter, we finally get to the real action of the story and my first time at writing anything that remotely resembles a case for the boys. Hope you continue to read, and remember that any and all reviews, follows and favourites are gladly appreciated. **


	9. Chapter 9

Lorelai raised her eyebrows and folded her arms. 'Fine. We came, we saw, we kicked its ass. Now, care to explain just what the hell's going on?'

'You think you could pass the ice first?' Sam asked, carefully lowering Dean into a chair.

It was Rory who ran to the freezer and bundled up a handful of ice in a clean dishcloth. As she handed it to Sam, their fingers accidentally brushed and Rory held his gaze for a moment, before blushing furiously and looking away.

'Is he ok?' she asked hurriedly, resolutely looking at the back of Dean's head and absolutely nothing else.

'I'm right here, you know,' Dean reminded her somewhat irritably, hissing as Sam applied the ice to the lump beneath his hair.

'Sorry,' Rory hastily apologised. 'What happened? I'm sure there's a first aid kit round here somewhere, right, Mom?'

'It's nothing I haven't had before,' Dean said impressively and Sam rolled his eyes, wondering for whose benefit exactly this bravado was for. 'Just a little banister on head action. Nothing out of the ordinary.'

Rory continued to eye Dean warily though Sam noticed that she seemed determined not to look in his direction at all.

'Ok, so life threatening injuries aside, do you think you could tell us what's going on?' Lorelai was persistent and Sam knew she wasn't going to give up easily.

'You sure you wouldn't rather go home?' Dean asked hopefully, wincing a little as Sam readjusted the makeshift icepack.

Lorelai looked extremely incredulous and from what Sam could tell, Rory seemed to be in total agreement. 'Forget what Dorothy said, pal, there's no place like right here. Spill.'

Dean shifted a little in his chair so he could properly look up at Sam. 'You want to give them the talk, Sammy, or will I?'

Sam shrugged, still keeping his eyes on Rory and wondering if she was going to try and completely ignore him for the entire time they were going to be in each other's company.

Seeing Sam's hesitation, Dean decided to accept the task at hand. 'Ok. So, first things first. Ghosts are real.' He paused for a second, perhaps waiting to gauge Rory and Lorelai's reaction but as they stayed silent, he continued on. 'Ghosts, ghouls, poltergeists, anything else you can think of. They're all real.'

Lorelai frowned. 'Vampires?'

'Afraid so. We thought they were extinct for a while, but Count Chocula and his buddies are very much alive. Well, not alive, but you get the idea.'

'Werewolves?' The question seemed to slip out of Rory without her volition.

Dean nodded. 'Yeah. Forget everything you've ever seen in the movies though, because Hollywood is full of crap.'

'Zombies?' Lorelai asked, apparently getting into the swing of things now.

Dean nodded.

'Witches?' It was Rory's turn again and now Sam noted that she was beginning to come out of her shyness and act more like the quirky, confident girl he remembered so well.

Dean rolled his eyes and Sam couldn't suppress a small smile. His brother had made his feelings on witches abundantly clear over the years. 'Yeah, but they're less into broomsticks and more into animals corpses and spewing their bodily fluids.'

Rory and Lorelai exchanged a look and Sam could tell that despite the humour they were trying to inject into the situation, both of them were justifiably freaked out. It was a coping mechanism they both shared, he now recalled, using their quick wit and talkative natures to diffuse the tension of an awkward situation. It was Bop-It all over again.

'Fairies?' Lorelai asked quickly.

'Oh yeah,' Dean nodded, 'but don't be getting the wrong idea. Less Tinkerbell and more nasty little jerks.'

'Dragons?'

Dean turned round to look at Sam for confrontation but Sam just shrugged. 'Not that we know of. That would be kind of awesome though.'

'Mermaids?'

'Uh, I don't think so.'

'Angels?' Rory asked and Sam wondered where that one had come from. From what he could remember, Rory had never struck him as being particularly spiritual or religious.

'No,' Dean said, incredibly firmly and decisively at the same moment Sam said, a lot more uncertainly, 'Maybe. We don't know.'

Dean twisted round in his chair to look at Sam again and Sam knew this was a whole other discussion to be had when they were by themselves. Rory and Lorelai could hardly fail to notice the sudden note of discomfort in the air and when Lorelai spoke again, Sam knew she was trying to hastily change the subject.

'The Stay Puft Marshmallow man?' she asked.

Dean smirked and Sam knew the difficult moment between them had passed, at least for now. 'Nope and by the way, awesome movie but they got all the details completely wrong.'

'It's really all real?' Rory asked, her voice quiet and uncertain again.

'Yeah,' Sam said quietly and Rory started at his direct address. 'Sorry.'

'And you get rid of them?' Lorelai asked incredulously. 'How does that not make you Ghostbusters?'

Dean's eyes narrowed. 'Because we don't wear matching jumpsuits,' he said drily.

'So you fighting ghosts in a totally non Ghostbuster way is what the taxpayers' dollar is going on?'

Sam laughed a little and even Dean smirked. 'Hate to break it to you, but we aren't really with the FBI.'

Rory smiled. 'No, really?' she asked, feigning shock.

'Who are you guys?' Lorelai asked. 'Rory here thinks you're like _Men in Black_ \- oh! Are aliens real?'

Sam shook his head. 'No encounters of any kind.'

'So if you aren't Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones, and you aren't Ghostbusters or feds, then who are you really?'

Dean hesitated before answering, glancing back up at Sam as though seeking affirmation before he gave too much away. Sam gave a little nod. He trusted Lorelai and Rory, he couldn't help it, even though in reality, he'd only known them in real life for less than a day.

'Well,' Dean said slowly, 'we weren't totally lying. Our names are Sam and Dean-'

'Webster,' Lorelai finished. 'Yeah, I know. Like the dictionary, must I repeat myself?'

'Winchester,' Dean corrected and Sam could see Rory frown a little, like she was trying to place the name. 'Sam and Dean Winchester.'

'So not like the dictionary,' Lorelai reconsidered.

'More like the rifle.'

'Sam and Dean Winchester,' Rory said slowly and suddenly, her eyes widened and Sam knew she'd worked it out. 'You were on the news! I remember now, a murder and then a bank robbery-'

'That wasn't us!' Dean said hastily, before she could get totally worked up and Lorelai got in on the act. 'Shapeshifters. Oh yeah, they're real too.'

'Of course they are,' Lorelai rolled her eyes. 'So you aren't murderers or bank robbers then? That's always handy information to have.'

'Just identity and insurance frauds,' Dean said cheerfully and if he didn't already have a large goose egg there, Sam would have smacked him upside the head. There was a time and a place for such frank honesty but Dean was apparently in a caring and sharing mood.

'Of course,' Lorelai said again, though she looked distinctly startled at Dean's confession. 'So how did you end up here?'

'We really did read it in the paper,' Sam explained quickly. 'When you read between the lines of local articles, there's a lot you can find.'

'And you just dropped everything and headed to Stars Hollow?' Rory asked. She sounded doubtful and Sam couldn't blame her. In the space of an hour, she'd been exposed to a world of nightmares, Sam's world, that was unfortunately only too real. Sam remembered precisely how that felt and it wasn't exactly the best feeling in the world.

'It's our job,' Dean shrugged and Sam tensed, waiting for the inevitable questions.

'How do you even get a job like that?' Lorelai asked. 'Your school must have had some weird kind of guidance counsellors, huh?'

'Yeah. Yeah, something like that,' Sam said vaguely, definitely not wanting o go into all the details.

'And we were in the neighbourhood,' Dean continued smoothly. 'Well, the state anyway.'

Rory and Lorelai nodded like that was sufficient explanation but apparently Dean didn't get the memo. Sam was beginning to think Dean was faking the whole concussion just so Sam _couldn't_ give him a well deserved smack upside the head. 'Once Sammy heard about the town, he insisted we drive straight here, isn't that right?'

Sam felt his face turn red with embarrassment as if Dean's statement hadn't made him sound enough of an obsessed seventh grader already.

'How come?' Rory asked, sounding a little embarrassed too. 'I mean, um, it's not somewhere people have usually herd of, I mean.'

Even Dean seemed to realise that he'd shared a little too much and quickly tried to regain control of the situation again. 'Oh yeah, Sam's a sucker for that small town charm. He just eats that crap up, and with a name like Stars Hollow-' He abruptly broke off at the totally unconvinced looks Lorelai and Rory were firing him, as well as Sam's completely resigned expression. He turned to Sam, trying out his most persuasive tone. 'Why don't we just tell them, Sammy? I mean, we've told them practically everything else.'

'Tell us what?' Lorelai asked suspiciously before Sam had a chance to answer one way or the other. 'You aren't going to tell us that Santa Claus isn't real on top of everything else, are you?'

'Dean,' Sam muttered out of the corner of his mouth, hoping to be as discreet as possible. 'I don't think-'

'Well I do,' Dean replied firmly, not trying to be as discreet at all. 'Come on, Sam, enough of all this.'

'Enough of all what?' Rory asked curiously, her eyes finally darting even remotely in Sam's direction.

'Fine,' Sam said quietly. 'Fine!' He took a deep breath and while he found he couldn't quite look Rory and Lorelai completely in the eye, he prepared to talk. 'Ok, so, the thing is, a while back, I used to have these, uh, dreams and sometimes...they came true.'

'Fun,' Lorelai commented casually though Sam noticed both she and Rory were frowning a little, in concern or disbelief he couldn't quite tell.

'Not so much,' Dean corrected. 'Go on, Sam.'

'These dreams came true always the way I had seen them, but like I said, this was all a while ago and they'd stopped.'

'Why do I have a feeling there's a but forthcoming?' Lorelai asked, her eyes flicking towards Dean as though for confirmation.

'They'd stopped,' Sam continued, 'but last night _(was that really only last night?)_ I had this dream. Not like a vision or anything like that. Just a dream. A freakin' vivid dream, but just a dream.'

'Or so he thought!' Dean apparently couldn't resist adding a touch of the dramatic.

'What did you dream about?' Rory asked, edging a little closer to Sam and following his lead in completely disregarding Dean's last comment.

'You,' he said simply before realising just how over the top stalkerish that sounded and he hastily tried to fix it. 'No, I mean, I had this dream where I was, sort of, living this other guy's life.'

Rory frowned a little, like she was trying to figure out where he was going, but she stayed silent, which Sam took as a cue to continue speaking.

'This guy, he was just...this kid. Just this ordinary kid, who lived here in Stars Hollow, who had a part time job and a little sister and a hockey team and a, uh, a girlfriend.' Sam broke off, because Rory was staring right at him now, her eyes wide and bright, and he knew she'd worked out what she was talking about.

'Dean,' she said quietly.

Dean, who'd been sitting somewhat slumped in his chair, looked up automatically as the sound of his name.

Lorelai raised her eyebrows at his reaction. 'I bet that's getting annoying,' she said lightly, as though compensating for the shocked silence Rory had lapsed into.

'Tell me about it,' Dean muttered. 'He couldn't have picked a different name to make life less complicated.'

'Dean,' Rory said again. 'You had a dream you were...him?'

Sam nodded. 'It sounds nine kinds of crazy and it is, I know it is, but I had this dream and from what I can gather, it's all been pretty damn accurate.'

'So you dreamed all of Narcolepsy Boy's greatest hits and then decided to come check it out for real?' Lorelai asked. 'You must have been super into _Dreams Come True_, huh?'

'Something like that,' Dean agreed. 'And what the hell does Narcolepsy Boy mean?'

'It's a long story,' Lorelai explained. 'Like _Never Ending Story_ proportions.'

'Whatever,' Dean shrugged. 'Go on, Sammy.'

'So I had this really vivid dream and then Dean found us this case in Stars Hollow and we decided we had to come check it out.'

'No, you decided,' Dean corrected. 'I was all for passing this freak show by. No offence,' he added, with a quick look towards Rory and Lorelai.

'None taken,' Lorelai answered promptly. 'Dr Venkman.'

'So you came to town,' Rory prompted and Sam was glad that at least someone was paying attention and taking things seriously.

'We came to town,' Sam agreed, 'and all of it, and I mean all of it, was exactly how I remembered from my dream. And I had all these thoughts and all these memories that were so real, but they couldn't be, or at least, they weren't _my_ memories. I mean, the town square, I remember going to the winter carnival and the Starlight Festival-'

'You've got to be kidding me,' Dean groaned. 'The Starlight Festival? Is that before or after the barn raising?'

Nobody thought to indulge him by replying but Rory was gazing at Sam with a most curious expression. She looked a little suspicious and understandably confused but there was something else there too; like she knew what he was talking about or at least recalled those particular memories.

'But this is my first time in Stars Hollow,' Sam continued, while Dean nodded in confirmation. 'I know it is. They aren't my memories. But then we went to Luke's-'

'You went to Luke's?' Lorelai interrupted.

'Yeah,' Dean replied. 'Good burgers.'

'I'll tell him you said so.'

Dean rolled his eyes. 'Oh yeah, small town, everybody's best friends with everybody else, right?'

Lorelai shrugged. 'Yeah, and I'm kind of married to him, so there's that. I wouldn't say we're exactly Donna and Dr Alex but, you know, there was a ceremony and stuff.'

Dean opened his mouth, no doubt to ask just what the hell Lorelai was talking about now, but Sam beat him to it, the words coming almost without his volition, as yet another of Dean Forrester's memories came to mind.'

'_The Donna Reed Show,'_ he said quietly.

His words were greeted with identical looks of surprise from Rory and Lorelai, both apparently in awe that he had caught the reference.

'That's impressive pop culture knowledge you've got there, pal,' Lorelai commented a little shakily.

'Well, it is a lifestyle,' he shrugged, unable to help himself since he recalled that particular memory with striking clarity.

'It's a religion,' Rory piped up and Sam turned to look at her, somehow certain that any of her lingering doubts about his Bedlam worthy story had now been blown out of the water. Rory was a smart girl, a rational one too, and Sam knew she ought to be completely losing it with all the crap he and Dean had dumped on her. And yet, she hadn't. She was standing ground, holding her own and what was best of all, Rory seemed to believe him. From out of nowhere, Sam felt the most bizarre rush of pride, like she'd not only lived up to all his high hopes and expectations from his dream, but had completely smashed through them. Rory Gilmore really was something all right; Dean Forrester, as Sam now realised, had been totally correct on that score.

Dean, who'd been watching the exchange like someone watching an extremely fast paced tennis match, abruptly shocked Sam out of his latest bout of contemplation. 'What am I missing here?' he demanded, somewhat irritably and Sam promptly tried to return to his original train of thought. As much as Sam might have been enjoying, or at least appreciating, this little jaunt down memory lane, Dean had to be feeling totally lost. Remembering his brother's outburst from earlier, Sam resolved to stay a little more firmly on the task at hand, at least when Dean was listening in.

'Nothing,' Sam said hastily. 'Nothing. I'll, uh, I'll explain it to you later.'

Dean didn't look too pleased about being left out of the loop of an inside joke so Sam hurriedly pressed on.

'So we came to town, everything was as I remembered it, but then people started...' Sam trailed off, feeling incredibly embarrassed and awkward all of a sudden.

'Recognising him,' Dean finished. 'That guy at the diner, you know the one, couple beers short of a six pack.'

'Kirk,' Rory and Lorelai groaned in unison.

'That's the one. He was convinced Sammy here was in witness protection or something.'

'That's actually a pretty reasonable idea for Kirk. You should hear some of the other stuff he comes off with.'

'Oh, I got the idea alright,' Dean said grimly. 'And there was the waitress too, right?'

'Lane,' Rory supplied quickly. 'She called earlier,' she added in response to her mom's questioning look. 'She said she'd met Dean at work.'

Sam smiled a little at the idea of Lane calling up Rory like they were still two teenagers, and the implication that they were still close friends pleased him too.

'Don't forget the two crazy dames who held me hostage,' Dean said, suppressing a shudder that Sam wasn't sure was entirely for comedic effect.

Rory and Lorelai exchanged a look and Sam knew they understood exactly what Dean was describing. His suspicions were confirmed when they both broke into broad grins. 'I told you Patty was on the lookout for her next husband,' Lorelai muttered to a smiling Rory. 'I swear she's determined to give Elizabeth Taylor a run for her money.'

'Hey!' Dean said defensively.

'Then we came to the Dragonfly,' Sam continued quickly, not wanting them to get sidetracked again. 'Miss Patty and Babette were, uh, perfectly willing to tell Dean everything-'

'Dude, I'm right here,' Dean interjected.

Sam pressed on like there'd been no interruption. 'We came to the inn, Dean went inside and I-'

'Ran into me,' Rory finished.

'And I totally freaked you out,' Sam said, with a small apologetic smile.

'Well, yes,' Rory admitted, looking like she was blushing a little.

Sam wanted to say something in response; make her smile, laugh, hell, engage in some honest to God, good old fashioned flirtation. Then again, he wasn't exactly feeling at the top of his game right now and it wasn't like he could pull out his best moves with Dean and Lorelai watching, was it? Well, Dean probably wouldn't mind, Sam reconsidered, but there were definitely more pressing matters at stake right now. Thankfully, Dean seemed to be paying attention to his failsafe Rescue Sammy Radar and he swooped in, saving Sam from the awkwardness of finding nothing to say.

'Then we met up, figured out we were dealing with a poltergeist and here we are,' Dean concluded.

Rory and Lorelai exchanged a look, then simultaneously turned to face Dean. 'Well, that was pretty anticlimactic,' Lorelai commented.

Dean frowned. 'Anticlimactic?' he repeated incredulously. 'What did you expect me to do?'

Lorelai shrugged. 'Some jazz hands would be good,' she joked.

Dean rolled his eyes. 'Sorry we're not living up to your expectations,' he said drily. 'What can I say? This was a pretty standard gig.'

'This is standard?' Lorelai asked. 'My inn turns into the freakin' Winchester mystery house, complete with actual Winchesters and a poltergeist, and that's standard?'

'Yeah,' Sam admitted quietly. 'It's a crappy job, but someone's gotta do it.'

'And you guys getting hurt?' Rory asked delicately. 'That's normal too?'

'A lot of the time we don't get off as lightly as this,' Sam answered truthfully. 'I know it looks bad but honestly, a concussion isn't that big of a deal anymore.'

'Speak for yourself,' Dean muttered, though Sam knew he wasn't really being serious. 'The stupid thing just seemed to take a shine to me.'

'They usually do,' Sam said slowly as the gears in his brain suddenly began turning, al the events of the day starting to come together in his head...

'What about you dreaming about all this?' Rory asked, sounding and looking a little anxious now. 'That isn't the norm, is it?'

'Are you kidding?' Dean almost laughed. 'Sammy's just always liked to be different, haven't you? Mind you, sometimes these things just like to screw with you, you know? Mess with your head so you can't get the job done and get rid of their sorry asses.'

Dean's words went round and round in Sam's head and it was like the solution to everything was right there, just out of reach on the tip of his tongue. _These things just like to screw with you...mess with your head...the stupid thing just seemed to take a shine to me..._Sam felt like he'd been the one hit on the head as the answer suddenly occurred to him and he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner. After all, it had only been a few weeks since Broward County, where they'd experienced exactly what liked to hurt Dean and mess spectacularly with Sam's head. And that would explain all the other freaky stuff too; the apparently nonexistent poltergeist, the dream come to life...all of it.

'What is it, Sam?' Dean asked, sounding a little concerned as he noticed Sam's deep train of thought. 'What are you thinking?'

'I know what this thing is,' Sam said quietly.

'I thought you said it was a poltergeist?' Lorelai sounded confused and Sam couldn't blame her, but he couldn't address that just yet.

'Think about it, Dean,' Sam urged. 'All the weird connections with my dream, you getting hurt-'

He was abruptly cut off by Dean swearing loudly. Concussion or not, his brother had just caught up and by the sounds of him, he was as pissed as Sam was. 'You're not saying...a freakin' Trickster?'

Sam nodded in agreement. 'Makes sense, right?'

'Sorry, but what exactly makes sense?' Lorelai asked, sounding like she was getting worked up again. 'Just what the hell's a trickster? Some kind of...some kind of ghost or something?'

'More like a demigod,' Dean corrected darkly. 'A demigod with crazy ass abilities who can make you see or believe anything he puts his twisted mind to. Haven't we had our fill of those sons of bitches yet? Hey, Sam, you don't think it's the same one?'

Sam raised an eyebrow. 'Pretty sure it's exactly the same one, Dean. You know how much that bastard enjoyed messing with us.'

'What's happening?' Rory burst out, appealing directly to Sam.

'We're working on it,' Sam said quickly, knowing full well it was an entirely insufficient response. 'Has anyone new come to town lately? Or anyone you knew who was acting strangely in the last few days, when this all started?'

Lorelai frowned a little. 'This is an inn,' she said slowly. 'Up until a couple of days ago, this place was full of guests. Nobody else has come since then, apart from you two.'

Apparently not put off, Dean decided to try a different tactic. 'This is going to sound weird'-

'It can't be any weirder than everything else you've said today,' Lorelai pointed out.

'Give me a minute. Have you had a, uh, litter problem round here recently?' Dean continued.

Rory jut looked baffled but Lorelai, Sam noted, was staring at Dean in confusion. 'How on earth did you know that? I thought I got Kirk to get it all cleaned before you even got here.'

'I'm guessing it was all candy wrappers?' Dean pressed on.

'Yeah. How did-'

'That's what the trickster leaves behind,' Sam explained. 'These things have a major sweet tooth and the wrappers left behind are kind of like its calling card.'

'Great,' Lorelai said sarcastically.

'Well, that bastard isn't skipping out on us for a third time,' Dean said firmly, his voice filled with determination as he got laboriously to his feet. 'We should still have a stake in the trunk, right?'

'A stake,' Lorelai repeated faintly.

'Yeah, a stake,' Dean replied, standing upright now and Sam was glad to see that some colour had returned to his face. 'We have to dip it in the blood of one of its victims for it to work properly.'

'Of course you do,' Lorelai muttered. 'We wouldn't want our stake to malfunction.'

'Any one of us could be its victim,' Dean continued. 'I mean, it's been screwing with all our heads.'

'I think it has to be me, Dean,' Sam said quietly. He'd never gone into much detail about his most recent confrontation with the Trickster, finding the memory of his brother dying over and over too painful to bear. Dean himself only knew the bare minimum and that had sufficed. Sam didn't think he needed to know how the creature had engineered the whole situation just to make Sam realise that his brother was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. Dean had already enough thoughts of that nature without any other contributions.

'Sam, you're not going to cut yourself open,' Dean told him firmly. 'Besides, I think the back of my head's already bleeding, right?'

Sam rolled his eyes. He loved his brother, he really did, but his constant need to throw himself in front of the bullet for Sam got on his last nerve. After all, wasn't that exactly how they'd gotten into this whole eternal damnation situation in the first place? 'Yeah, 'cause I'm really going to stick the pointed end of a stake into the back of your head, Dean.'

'What difference does a couple of weeks make anyway,' Dean said quietly, but apparently not quietly enough for it to go entirely unnoticed.

'What does that mean?' Rory asked at once, watching Dean with some concern.

'Nothing,' Sam said quickly, shooting a narrow eyed glare at Dean. They really didn't need to be getting into that here in front of the Gilmores. 'Nothing. Listen, I think it's safe for you to go home now, ok?'

'What about this, uh, Trickster?' Lorelai asked, her eyes darting towards the back door, still completely blocked by the dresser. 'I don't relish the idea of bumping into the God of Mischief or whatever on the way home.'

'How will you find it?' Rory asked.

'These things always show themselves in the end,' Dean explained, 'especially when they know you're onto them. Now this one, it knows us and I'm betting it'll want to turn up and go all Chatty Cathy with us before we gank its pathetic ass.'

'Right,' Lorelai said slowly and uncertainly.

'Maybe we should take them home?' Sam suggested quickly, wondering if he sounded as incredibly protective as he suddenly felt towards the two women.

'No offence, Kevin Costner, but do we look in need of a bodyguard to you?'

Inexplicably to Sam, Dean seemed to be siding with Lorelai. 'She's right, Sammy, this thing's here for us, right?'

'Then why did it lock us all in here together?' Sam couldn't help but ask.

Dean shrugged. 'Add that to the list of things you can ask when it finally shows itself. Along with why the hell it continually feels the need to beat me up.'

'Dirty,' Lorelai smiled.

Dean ignored her. 'As for you two, just go straight home, alright? No dawdling, no stopping to talk to anyone. This thing could look like anyone and we don't want to give it any more ideas. These sons of bitches can get damn creative.'

Rory nodded. 'Are you kidding me? It's past ten,' she said, in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood. 'Everyone in Stars Hollow has been asleep for hours.'

Dean didn't crack a smile. 'Just look sharp. Stay inside. We'll take care of this and we'll be in touch later.'

'How are you going to get this thing to come out?' Rory asked.

'Don't you worry,' Dean said impressively, fixing her with his most confident expression while Sam resisted the urge to laugh. 'It'll show itself before too long.'

'The front door should be ok to use now,' Sam said helpfully when Lorelai and Rory didn't move. 'We'll put everything back where it came from when we're finished. Promise.'

'If you're sure...' Lorelai trailed off uncertainly.

'We are,' Dean said firmly. 'Now get a move on.'

With a last anxious look, Lorelai put her arm round Rory's shoulder, preparing to lead her away. Rory hesitated a moment, her eyes straying back towards Sam before allowing her mom to bring her out of the kitchen and towards the front door. _Later_, Sam found himself saying to her in his mind, like she was the one with the psychic tendencies, _we'll talk later._

They'd barely taken two steps, however, when the heavy kitchen dresser was once again sliding across the floor, slotting neatly back into its original position against the wall. Instinctively, Sam stepped in front of Rory and Lorelai, as though to shield them from any further harm, while Dean, swearing furiously under his breath, pulled out his handgun, useless as it probably was, and pointed it straight at the back door.

Nobody spoke, or even breathed by the sounds of things as the door burst open and a lone figure walked, with an aggravatingly confident swagger, into their midst. And there was nothing any one of them, Rory, Lorelai, Sam or even Dean could do to stop it.

**A/N: This chapter has been the hardest to write so far, which explains the slight delay in updating, although I was all ready to upload yesterday morning and the site server was down. It's something of a transitional chapter with a lot more info dumping that I would have liked in order to bring all the characters up to speed but needs must I'm afraid and I've already reworked it a few times. I'm curious as to whether anyone guessed what the entity causing all the trouble was? I'd planned it to be the Trickster (or is it?) all along but I'd love to know what other ideas people had. As always, any and all reviews, follows and favourites are very much appreciated. **


	10. Chapter 10

'Well, well, aren't we a motley crew?' came the annoyingly chipper voice and Rory's eyes darted round the kitchen, seeing who would be the first to answer. She expected her mom to make some wisecrack like she always did without fail in any situation, but Lorelai remained silent, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on the newcomer. She was obviously as freaked as Rory herself was.

Still in silence, Rory stood up on her toes to see over De-_Sam's_ outstretched arm, but all she could see was a perfectly normal looking guy. He didn't look like a monster or a demigod like the Winchesters had said, but judging by the perfectly murderous expression on Dean's face and Sam's suddenly protective stance, he wasn't one to be messed with.

Apparently not put off by the gun _(dear God, a gun, Rory had never seen a gun in real life before)_ Dean Winchester was aiming directly at it, the demigod, Trickster, whatever, continued speaking. 'Sammy!' he exclaimed and Rory saw Sam visibly tense and his hands curled into tight fists. 'Dean!' If possible, Dean's scowl deepened and if looks could kill, the Trickster would be six feet under. 'The Brothers Winchester, long time no see!'

Dean opened his mouth to speak and Rory had no doubt they were all about to be treated to some choice swear words and insults. With an almost careless flick of his hand, however, the Trickster sent Dean flying clear across the kitchen to the far wall, where his frozen, spread eagled position made Rory think he couldn't move at all. A loud, perfectly audible gasp escaped Rory's lips before she could stop herself and at once, the Trickster turned to look in her direction. Rory couldn't suppress a shudder as his eyes locked almost gleefully onto hers, and Sam took a step forward, simultaneously pushing both Rory and Lorelai further behind him.

'And look who we have here!' the Trickster said loudly and to Rory, at least, it sounded like he was a game show host introducing them to an eagerly waiting audience. 'It's the Gilmore girls! I got to say, ladies, I'm a huge fan. Although,' he broke off, his head cocked to the side as if he were deliberating something. Rory shuddered again, unable to help herself, and beside her, Lorelai raised her eyebrows as though she was daring the Trickster to say something else to her. In any other situation, Rory might have smiled or even laughed at her mom's gutsy reaction but today she just willed Lorelai to stay silent. It wasn't like this thing needed any further provocation, was it?'

'Although,' the Trickster continued, his eyes glinting mischievously, 'if you don't mind me saying, Sam's dreams really didn't do you two gals justice. So nice to finally see you in the flesh, you know?'

'What the hell are you doing here?' Sam asked, his voice a lot fiercer than Rory had yet heard it, but again she found herself thinking about Dean, _her _Dean - though he hadn't been hers for a very long time. Rory remembered all the times he'd stepped in front of her to 'defend her honour' even when, strictly speaking, it hadn't really needed defending in the first place. Would Dean have placed himself in front of this particular danger? With the pretty much identical Sam acting like a human shield, it was easy to imagine so.

The Trickster, Rory didn't know how better to refer to him, _it,_ in her mind, gave an extremely incredulous expression and Rory could practically hear Dean rolling his eyes from across the room. 'Isn't it obvious?' the Trickster asked, his voice infuriatingly smug.

'It's not obvious to me,' Lorelai said, almost without thinking, though the second she spoke, she looked instantly regretful as the Trickster's attention was once again focused on them.

'Well, not to you,' he reconsidered, looking slightly thoughtful once again. 'But these two chuckleheads-' He broke off to gesture with one hand towards Sam and the other towards Dean who was still pinned, immobile against the wall. 'They know me, or at least they should know I like to stick around for a while and survey my handiwork. And let me tell you, it doesn't get much better than this.'

'You think you could let me down?' Dean cut in irritably and Rory, peeking over Sam's arm again, could see that he looked absolutely livid. 'I mean, before you start on your villain monologue, Goldfinger.'

'Let you down?' the Trickster repeated. 'Sure.' With another wave of his hand, Dean was sent crashing to the ground where he made an ungainly landing accompanied by a loud exclamation of, 'Son of a bitch!' Without even turning round, another careless wave had Dean's fallen gun flying straight to the Trickster's waiting hand. 'Not like you could do much damage with that here, big boy, but better safe than sorry, am I right?'

'Look, let them go,' Sam said firmly in such a tone that made Rory think he would have been an excellent pre-law student. 'You're here for us, right? They've got nothing to do with this-'

The Trickster held up a hand and Sam fell silent in such an abrupt way that Rory felt sure he _couldn't_ speak, just like Dean couldn't move. Rory tried to calm her nerves about what this thing could and would do next. Without even needing to communicate this in words, Rory suddenly felt her mom's hand holding tight onto hers. A quick sideways glance confirmed that Lorelai was just as nervous and Rory suspected that her mom needed the physical comfort as much as she herself did.

'Nothing to do with this?' the Trickster repeated incredulously. 'Sam, they've got everything to do with this! Ok, maybe I started with you, what can I say, kiddo, I've taken a liking to you, but then I found these ladies. How could I not? I mean, come on! It was just too good to be true!'

'You made this all up?' Rory found herself whispering before she could stop herself.

The Trickster raised one eyebrow and looked close to laughing aloud. 'Sweetheart, I didn't make up a single thing. Did I manipulate things a little? Yeah, alright, maybe I did but come on, you couldn't make this stuff up. I know I'm good, but even I'm not that good.'

Out of the corner of her eye, Rory saw Dean, who'd managed to pull himself to his feet, discreetly grab one of Sookie's wooden spoons off the counter and hide it behind his back. She wasn't exactly sure what he was doing, but she didn't miss the look of understanding that passed between Sam and Dean, and the implication was clear. Rory had watched more than enough movies in her lifetime to know this was a standard tactic; you had to stall the victim and keep them talking to give the hero time to swoop in and save the day. Beside her, Lorelai gave an almost imperceptible nod and Rory knew she'd got the memo too. There was a lot to be said for quick wit and even quicker speech and this was one area Rory and Lorelai could definitely help the Winchesters with.

On this occasion, however, Sam beat them to it and hastily jumped in, while Dean, in what Rory guessed was a rare feat of silence, had lifted a knife now too and was bust at work, still with his hands behind his back. 'What the hell are you talking about?' Sam asked forcefully and Lorelai gave a solemn nod as though in show of her total agreement.

The Trickster made a wide sweeping gesture round the room and Rory saw Dean freeze, though his facial expression gave absolutely nothing away. It was a skill she wished she could suddenly acquire; Rory was pretty sure her own face was doing a spot on impression of the kid from _Home Alone_ right about now.

'All this,' the Trickster said grandly, apparently oblivious to whatever Dean was up to, 'is totally and completely one hundred percent genuine. Sure I may have messed around with your dreams a little, Sam, but everything you see here, everything the light touches if you will, is real.'

'Good to know we're not just figments of somebody else's dream, right?' Lorelai commented.

Rory nodded. 'All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream,' she quoted automatically.

'Edgar Allan Poe,' Sam called over his shoulder and in spite of everything, Rory found herself smiling a little. She did enjoy it when people managed to catch her more obscure references. When he turned back to the Trickster, however, Sam's voice instantly reverted to that same firm and downright scary tone he'd used ever since the creature appeared in their midst. Rory may have decided she trusted Sam Winchester, and Dean for that matter, but that didn't mean she wasn't a little afraid of what they were doing. 'I'd worked that much out for myself,' Sam said coldly.

'You have? Oh good.' As though compensating for Sam's icy tone, the Trickster sounded overly bright and breezy. 'So you know all about those strange little coincidences, huh?'

Sam nodded, but didn't speak.

'I mean, Rory here, can I call you Rory?'

Rory made no response, not wanting it to refer to her at all, if truth be told. The Trickster seemed to take this as an invitation to continue speaking.

'As I was saying, Rory's old flame looking like your identical twin, Sam? You might want to get some DNA tests done, seriously. That was weird enough, but throw in the fact he was called Dean? That's when I knew I had to get you all together. Out of all the boring, nondescript, unoriginal names in the world, they had to pick Dean.'

'Hey!' Dean protested, hastily stowing his handiwork out of sight as the Trickster turned in his direction.

'No offence meant, of course,' he replied, in such a sickly sympathetic tone that Rory kind of wanted to gag a little. 'I'm sure this is all getting annoying, huh, buddy?'

'You could say that,' Dean shrugged, clearly stalling for more time and Rory could see Sam looking at the door back into the dining room, as though debating how they could make their exit. 'Could have done without that bang on the head, though.'

'Yeah, sorry about that,' the Trickster replied in such a voice that implied he really wasn't sorry at all. 'Still, what's a little concussion between friends?'

'We aren't friends,' Dean corrected. 'Far from it.'

'Whatever. I was talking to Sam anyway.'

'Oh great, Sam said sarcastically as Dean was forgotten about again and he was the Trickster's centre of attention.

'Anyway, like I was saying,' he pressed on, like Dean had caused him some great inconvenience. 'The coincidences don't stop there. I thought the whole Dean and Sam thing was enough but then I did a little more digging.'

Somehow Rory knew what he was going to say. She remembered talking with Sam earlier that day, remembered how he'd mentioned his old girlfriend's name, how it had hit a lot closer to home than he'd intended.

'What are the odds of your old girlfriend and her old boyfriend having the same name?'

'Told you Jess was a girly name,' Lorelai whispered, but Sam, it seemed, found no humour in the situation and Rory couldn't exactly blame him. He'd mentioned that his girlfriend, _his_ Jess, had died and Rory was sure he didn't appreciate her name being dragged into things. Indeed, Rory soon found herself wondering if Jess had been killed by a ghost or something on one of Sam's jobs. The idea was too awful to contemplate but it would make sense.

'Don't you talk about her like that,' Sam forced out through gritted teeth and the sheer emotion behind his words made Rory realise just how much he loved this girl, no matter what had happened to her.

'Hey, no disrespect,' the Trickster said hastily, looking a little harried at Sam's less than positive response. 'I'm just saying. Freaky coincidence, right?'

'Oh yeah, it's a real _Freaky Friday_ here,' Lorelai said, rolling her eyes in a perfect gesture of bored disgust, though she didn't relinquish her grip on Rory's hand.

'Alright, you've had your fun,' Sam said condescendingly, like he was speaking to a scolded child. 'You think we could get a move on please?'

'So your brother can run me through with a stake, you mean?'

Sam didn't miss a beat or even falter for a second, though Rory could feel her own heart hammering painfully in her chest. She just hoped her face didn't give the game away.

'Do you see a stake anywhere here?' he asked calmly.

'Depends,' the Trickster said thoughtfully. 'Does that spoon Dean's currently trying to sharpen count as a stake?'

Dean froze, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, his hands still hidden behind his back, even though there was really no point now.

Despite this, it seemed Sam was not to be swayed easily. 'Ok, so Dean's not about to kill you with a spoon.'

'There's a sentence you don't hear every day,' Lorelai whispered.

'Why the hell are you here?' Sam continued. 'Besides being a giant pain in the ass, I mean.'

'You see, Sam, your sparkling wit is one of the many reasons I just can't get enough of your Paul Bunyan goodness. Don't you remember? I like you guys, and I seem to remember you saying you liked my style, Dean.'

Dean frowned, looking a little uncomfortable as Sam, Rory and Lorelai all stared at him accusingly. 'Maybe I did, pal, but that was a long time ago, back when you were still into slow dancing aliens and alligators in the sewers,' Dean clarified, as though his words were supposed to make a lick of sense to anyone.

'Ok, scrap the last one. _That_ is a sentence you don't hear every day,' Lorelai reconsidered.

'Oh, Dean,' the Trickster sighed, almost pityingly. 'Dean, Dean, Dean. All that stuff? Yeah it was fun and those dicks sure had it coming, but I've moved on since then. I've grown up, matured, if you will.'

Dean made some kind of derisive snort that the Trickster silenced with a single quelling stare.

'Don't believe me, huh? Well, buckle up and keep your hands and feet inside the cart at all times, ladies and gents, 'cause you ain't seen nothing yet.'

Rory found herself tensing, as though bracing herself for whatever the Trickster was going to throw their way next. For a second, nothing seemed to happen and she wondered why her mom was suddenly gazing at her with such concern in her eyes. Then, from seemingly out of nowhere, Sam, who'd been standing strong as their infallible human shield, suddenly dropped to a crumpled heap on the floor.

Rory barely noticed Dean yelling 'Sammy!' across the room or the way her fingers were suddenly slipping from her mom's grip. All she registered in her currently cotton wool brain was an unidentifiable roaring sound in her ears and the strange way the ground was rushing up to meet her. A second later, none of that mattered, because everything went dark and Rory knew no more.

xxxxx

Rory's eyes flew open and her surroundings gradually swam into focus, once her eyes adjusted to the low lighting. Somewhere in the back of her head, a little voice was niggling at her that something wasn't quite right about all this, but she ignored that for now. She'd cross that bridge when she came to it, right? Right. Rory wasn't exactly sure where this kind of confidence was coming from, certainly it wasn't like her to just jump in, no questions asked, but she was going with it regardless.

Rory was surprised to find herself standing up, she could have sworn she was lying down, and what was even more surprising, she was outside. Weird. She looked all about, trying to work out where she was, but beyond the fact that it was evening time, Rory could discern nothing else. Hang on - she squinted through the dusk, suddenly recognising what _kind_ of place she was currently standing outside, if not the specific one. She was on a college campus, overlooking the halls of residence. She just had to be. Rory recognised the perfectly manicured lawns, the discreet little 'residents only' sign and the undeniable student atmosphere from her own college days. That being said, she was pretty sure she wasn't at Yale; Rory had come to know the place like the back of her hand by the end of her four years, and this was not her alma mater. Strange. What cause would Rory, now more than a full year away from college, have to be at an unfamiliar campus in the middle of the night?

She got her answer a second later, or maybe more questions were actually being presented, when the loud rumble of a car's engine rent the night air. Two passing frat boys, carrying a keg between them, pronounced the car now pulling up to the sidewalk as an, 'Awesome set of wheels' but that wasn't what Rory had in mind. The glossy black car, Rory had no idea of the make or model, seemed familiar, though she couldn't place it right away. She stood by as the passenger door opened with a loud screech and a tall boy with a spectacular mop of hair and a backpack over his shoulder climbed out.

Rory gasped, recognising him and indeed the quite distinctive car. Her first automatic thought was that of Dean Forrester, but she hurriedly pushed it aside. This wasn't about Dean anymore, maybe it never had been, it was about Sam and the incidentally named Dean and Rory. At once, Rory remembered exactly what had come before. She remembered standing in the Dragonfly's kitchen with her mom, Sam and Dean...and the Trickster! Of course that's what was going on here. The demigod creature the Winchesters had warned her about, and Rory had had the pleasure of meeting, must have engineered this. It couldn't be real because she was still at the Dragonfly, and so were Sam and Dean for that matter, so they couldn't all be at some college campus. It just appeared that way because the Trickster wanted it to, for whatever reason.

Rory was about to approach the boys to find out what they were supposed to do next, when the blatantly obvious struck her. This Sam in front of her with his hoodie and his bangs falling in his eyes wasn't the Sam she'd met in Stars Hollow earlier that day. Looking closer, she guessed that Sam looked to be about two years younger. It was with a slight cringe that Rory arrived at that estimation as she was basing it on how Dean Forrester had looked the last time she'd seen him. She couldn't exactly see in the darkness but Dean, who was sitting in the driver seat, looked younger too.

Apparently oblivious to her, even though she was now running towards him and calling his name, Sam crouched down and spoke through the open passenger window. 'Call me if you find him?' He spoke in a softer voice somehow, sounding younger and more innocent than Rory had heard him.

'Sam?' Rory called loudly, though Sam gave absolutely no indication he had heard her. 'Dean?' She tried appealing to the so far silent man in the car, again to no avail.

'And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?' Sam continued as though Rory hadn't spoken. Maybe as far as Sam was concerned, she hadn't.

'Yeah, all right,' Dean finally spoke and Rory noted that he sounded weary and resigned, rather than just youthful like Sam.

Rory watched Sam pat the car door twice before turning away from Dean and back towards campus. She frowned, wondering why she was being privy to what she could only assume was one of Sam and Dean's memories.

'Sam?' Dean suddenly called and Sam turned back to face the car again. 'You know, we made a hell of a team back there.'

'Yeah,' Sam agreed quietly.

Rory didn't know what exactly they were talking about but she frowned again, watching Sam walk off in one direction while Dean remained seated in the car. She dithered on the spot for a second, wondering if she should stay with Dean or follow the other. _Story of my life_, Rory thought grimly, but she made up her mind in an instant. Sam was right, this whole thing had started with him and although Dean was a nice guy, she had the better connection with Sam.

She took a last look over her shoulder at Dean, who was leaning out the window, watching Sam go. He seemed so undeniably sad and defeated there that Rory felt incredibly sorry for him, unacquainted with the situation as she was. Leaving Dean, who still hadn't started up the car, behind, Rory followed the younger Sam up the stairs of the university building. It wasn't Yale, it was Stanford, as she now remembered Sam mentioning earlier, but it felt familiar all the same. Rory loved her job as a journalist, she really did, but there was nothing like college; the thrilling mixture of academia and newfound freedom. That was one of the many reasons Rory could kick herself for taking that break from Yale, but that wasn't important right now. The point was, Rory missed college and she found herself wondering if Sam did too. She did notice that his whole demeanour seemed to change.

As Sam unlocked the door and let himself, and Rory, into the small apartment, she saw him visibly relax. He breathed out loudly, as though in great relief, and his shoulders lost all the tension, like they were no longer carrying the weight of the world. She followed him through to the tiny kitchen, feeling uncomfortably like an intruder as Sam called out his girlfriend's name and was greeted with the sound of the running shower.

Just what was she doing here and why did the Trickster want her to see this memory? He'd mentioned that he actually liked Sam and Dean and Rory was sure there was at least a grain of sincerity there. What exactly was he playing at that?

Sam was wandering into the bedroom now and Rory hung back, feeling more uncomfortable than ever, and hastily focused all her attention on the plate of cookies on the kitchen table. _'Missed you! Love you!'_ the note read and in spite of everything, Rory smiled a little. It wasn't exactly her style, but she definitely appreciated the sentiment. Clearly this Jess loved Sam as much as he loved her.

Out of nowhere, Rory suddenly remembered the most striking detail Sam had given away about Jessica. She had died, and Rory guessed it had to have been fairly recently, within the last two years if this memory was anything to go by. Rory felt a horrible wave of nausea wash over her. This memory, this night, it couldn't be what she now feared it was. Surely not...

Rory's worst suspicions were confirmed when she heard a cry of, 'No! Jess!' from the bedroom. Her heart bobbing somewhere in the region of her throat, Rory followed the noise and skidded to an unsteady halt at the bedroom door. Not in a million years, or in her very worst nightmares, could she have pictured the scene that now greeted her.

Sam was lying on the bed, his horror struck face turned upwards to the ceiling. Rory followed his line of vision and what she saw made her scream, though the sound never left her lips. This wasn't her memory and she could only look in shocked silence at the beautiful blonde girl spread eagled, inexplicably and impossibly, on the ceiling, her nightgown stained red and her mouth open too in a silent scream.

Rory could feel tears pooling in her eyes and instantly splashing down her face as the ceiling suddenly caught fire, taking Jessica with it. Rory wanted to do something, help Sam out of the burning building, hold him close and tell him it would all be ok, even make a noise, but she was completely powerless. Like Sam, all she could do was watch even as the flames consumed the ceiling and began to lick at the walls, coming ever closer to the desperate figure on the bed, still yelling the dead girl's name. It felt like a lifetime as the thick clouds of smoke began to envelope the small room, but Rory heard the faraway sound of a door being kicked down and a familiar voice yelling, 'Sam!'

And then Dean was there, barrelling into the bedroom and straight through Rory like she wasn't there, which, as she reminded herself, she wasn't really. Rory didn't think she'd ever been so glad to see another human being in all her life. Even though she knew perfectly well that Sam had to survive this horrible night, even if his girlfriend didn't, it was still a relief to have someone come to the rescue, especially as she was stuck there unable to help. She watched as Dean pulled Sam off the bed, the latter fighting against him the whole time, and forced him towards the door. He wasn't a moment too soon, Rory noted grimly, as barely a second later, the flames commandeered the bed too.

For two fully grown and extremely tall men, it was remarkable how much Sam and Dean looked like two little kids wrestling as Sam fought to returned to the now totally alight room. Dean ultimately got the upper hand and forcibly ejected Sam, but not before Rory got one last look at him.

Rory had seen people cry before, obviously. She wasn't exactly a stranger to the whole tear shedding ritual herself. She'd comforted her mother through break ups, kept a brave face while Grandma broke down when Grandpa was in the hospital, helped a hysterical Paris through the injustice of not getting accepted to Harvard. Rory herself had cried into a ridiculously large tub of ice cream after her first break up, blinked away tears when she addressed the audience as Chilton's valedictorian, drunkenly sobbed on the bathroom floor when a boy didn't seem to like her back. But Rory had never seen someone cry like this before. She'd always sort of known that she lived a very sheltered life, probably more so than even she realised, but never had the fact been so blatantly obvious.

Rory had never felt grief or heartbreak so intensely as this, had never had her whole life literally go up in flames around her, had never had to pull a loved one from danger before. She couldn't help the tears that continued to course down her cheeks, or the breath that hitched in her chest, even as the darkness slowly began to creep up on her once more. The heat of the flames still warmed her skin and she could smell the acrid smoke on her hair and clothes even as the burning building faded away.

'Why did you show me that?' she sobbed, her eyes streaming, her nose running, her chest heaving. Maybe her voice was finally working now or maybe she was just screaming the words to herself. The words continued to go round and round in her head even as she felt her eyes close over and the sensation of lying on a cold, hard floor slowly returned to her.

'Why did you show me that? Sam...Sam! Jess...I-I'm sorry...why did you show me that? I can't...I don't...why did you show me that?'

**A/N: Well that took a bit of an unexpected turn, didn't it? I hope everyone enjoys the Trickster's latest antics and I thought it was only fair to give Rory a Winchester flashback, since Sam has been treated to Gilmore ones the whole way through. I have to say, it was fascinating getting to explore the Supernatural pilot from an outsider's perspective. The Trickster was definitely a tricky (see what I did there?) one to write dialogue for and I think that my finished product is kind of a mixture of the Trickster from the show mixed with the conversational styles of Lucifer, Crowley, Balthazar and even Ash from the Roadhouse. That being said, I enjoyed writing him and I'm happy with it! Let me know what you think and any and all reviews, follows and favourites are very gladly appreciated. **


	11. Chapter 11

With a start, Sam felt himself return to at least a modicum of wakefulness, but the realisation that he was sitting on a comfortable couch where it was nice and warm and quiet made him loath to get up anytime soon. Instead, he leaned further back into one particularly soft cushion, content to just sit there and enjoy an extremely rare moment of complete and utter peace. For once, Sam's brain wasn't kicking itself into over drive, trying to gather all available information to process some logical explanation. No, not now. He felt comfortable and peaceful and totally safe, which wasn't a sensation Sam was very familiar with, if truth be told.

Sam might have stayed there forever, in total acceptance of never moving a muscle again, but the thought eventually occurred to him that maybe he should find out where he was - then he could settle himself down again. His eyes opened slowly and Sam looked all about the room, a little curious now to see just where on earth he was. Normally in these kinds of situations (and didn't that just say spades about his life that there was a 'normal' protocol for this) when he woke up in a strange place, it usually took him a second or two to discern what motel he was in. Sam opened his eyes wider to take in the cosily furnished living room, the modern and, by the looks of it, actually functioning TV, the framed photos above the fireplace, and frowned. This wasn't like any motel Sam had ever seen before, and he had frequented every variety imaginable. Nope, not a tacky ornament or gross stain in sight. Where in the hell had Dean dragged them to this time? Sam shifted a little on the couch, resisting the highly tempting offer to just lie back and fall asleep again, and instead tried to work out what had happened.

His first, and entirely reasonable, thought was that whatever monster they were hunting this week had gotten the jump on him. Funny, he didn't feel hurt. He held out his arms, looking for blood or bruises or bumps, but came up short. He didn't have any trouble breathing, his head wasn't throbbing, he wasn't gushing blood; hell, Sam felt like he could jump up and run a marathon if he so wished. As backwards and contrary as it sounded, the longer Sam just sat there in the peace and quiet, the more it unsettled him. Something definitely wasn't right here. It kind of sucked and it spoke volumes about Sam's warped, twisted idea of normal, but there was nothing he could do about that right now.

Still drawing a blank about whatever had landed him here, Sam deduced that this house, as he was fairly certain this was a house and not an impeccably kept motel, had to belong to someone. With any luck, this someone, whoever they were, would have some idea about what had happened and, more importantly, where the hell Dean had taken himself off to.

Sam was about to call out some kind of greeting, to announce his presence or whatever, when the photographs above the fireplace caught his attention instead. In an instant, he had bounded up off the couch and straight across the living room, snatching up a frame in slightly trembling hands. It showed two pretty, dark haired girls arm in arm like sisters or best friends, though Sam knew they were actually mother and daughter...

And just like that, Sam remembered exactly what had happened and exactly where he was. That goddamn Trickster. Sam scowled, in a ferocious mood to kill dead things. How dare that thing try and screw with his head even further, like things weren't already messed up enough. The very last place he needed to be right now was the freakin' Gilmore homestead and yet here he was. Sam automatically looked towards the front door but somehow he knew that things weren't going to be that easy. The Trickster wasn't exactly famed for making life simple and uncomplicated.

'Could you grab the soda from the fridge?' came a cheery voice from the doorway and Sam, startled, fumbled with the frame and almost dropped it. _Smooth, Winchester, real smooth._

Sam turned round, recognising the voice at once and knowing its owner, without any shadow of a doubt. Only - he definitely wasn't expecting the Rory who now presented herself to him. This Rory was younger than the one he'd left behind at the inn, young enough that she was still wearing her Chilton uniform. With that plaid skirt and her long hair falling down round her shoulders, Rory could be no older than sixteen, or seventeen at the very most. Sam swallowed, feeling more than a little anxious about how he was supposed to explain to a teenaged Rory what he, who looked like her boyfriend plus about eight years, was doing in her house. Sam began trying to form some plausible and believable explanation but instead, another voice floated in from the kitchen and it too sounded familiar. It was with a horrible jolt to the stomach that Sam realised who it must belong to, but it couldn't be, could it?

'Diet or regular?' the voice, the teenage boy's voice, called.

Sam watched Rory roll her eyes and if he wasn't so freaked out then he might have laughed at her expression of total incredulity. 'Did you just say the 'd' word? Are you trying to commit blasphemy?'

'Point taken. Regular coming right up.'

The way Rory spoke to him, and the way he responded, sounded familiar and not like she'd noticed some crazy intruder standing in her living room. It mightn't even qualify as the strangest thing to happen today, but it was still with trepidation that Sam watched the young man enter the room, carrying a large pizza box with two soda cans balanced on top.

And there, staring right through Sam like he wasn't even there, was his sixteen year old self. Except it wasn't him, not really. There could be no doubt about it, it was Dean Forrester who entered the room, no matter how much he looked like Sam. The eyes were certainly the same and the nose and all those things, but Sam was pretty sure he'd never worn a Stars Hollow High sweatshirt or shared a pizza with Rory Gilmore before. That, and the air, which was a little too gelled for Sam's liking, and his brother would have teased him even more mercilessly for, was a dead giveaway.

Sam's mind was racing a mile a minute as he tried to process this new twist in the tale. So he was himself, his present self, but watching one of Rory and Dean's memories, was that it? That would make sense, or as much as any of this could be said to make sense. It would at least explain why Rory and Dean had flopped down on the couch and were continuing their conversation like they were totally unaware of his presence. It was like they were closely following a script and Sam was just privy to it.

That damn Trickster really was a tricky bastard. Based on their previous encounters, Sam guessed the Trickster had a specific reason in mind for showing him this memory. Either that or he was just having a good laugh at Sam's expense and whatever he was putting the others through back at the Dragonfly. Whatever the reason, Sam sure was looking forward to getting back there so he could gank the son of a bitch. The Trickster had dicked with him enough for one day. For the time being, however, it looked like Sam was very much stuck where he was, as Rory was speaking again and Sam was powerless to stop her.

'Have you decided on a movie yet?' she asked. 'It's supposed to be your turn.'

'I'm still thinking,' Dean replied through a large mouthful of pizza. Sam rolled his eyes. This kid may have looked just like Sam, but his table manners were more reminiscent of Dean Winchester. Maybe it really was all in a name.

'You should know the Gilmore rules by now,' Rory said brightly, though Sam noticed the mischievous glint in her eyes.

'I'm not watching _Pippi Longstocking_ again,' Dean informed her, thankfully swallowing his food before he spoke his time.

Rory held up her hands in mock defence. 'I don't make the rules, buddy. It's Avril Lavinge's world, I've told you before, and we're just living in it.'

Dean raised his eyebrows. 'And Avril Lavinge recommends watching _Pippi Longstocking_, does she?'

Rory nodded solemnly. 'It's one of her lesser known songs. You haven't heard it?'

'Funnily enough, I haven't,' Dean smiled, grabbing another slice of pizza.

'Well, if you had heard it, you would know that if you can't decided on a movie in the next two minutes then we have to default to _Pippi Longstocking._ Them's the rules. You don't want to incur the wrath of Lorelai again, do you?'

Dean grinned. 'You're making it sound like the _Wrath of Khan_ or something.' Dean, Winchester that is, would have been proud of that particular reference, Sam thought wryly. As much as Dean liked to protest that Sam was the nerd, it was always Dean glued to the TV whenever they were kids and _Star Trek_ was on.

'She'll set her phasers to kill of you go against the rules of movie night again,' Rory responded at once. 'You remember what happened when you rented _Boogie Nights_?'

Sam almost laughed at Dean's suddenly horrified expression. 'I didn't know anyone could hate Marky Mark that much,' he said darkly.

'I did warn you,' Rory pointed out. 'The first night you came over, remember?'

'I do. Our first date, _Willy Wonka_, your mom supervising?' Dean raised her eyebrows and Sam, remembering that particular night, smirked a little.

'That's the one.'

Dean seemed to be suddenly struck with a flash of inspiration and he edged slightly closer to Rory on the couch. Sam rolled his eyes. He'd been a teenage boy once, hell, he understood this particular teenage boy on a whole other level and he had a pretty good idea what was coming next.

'Speaking of which, where is your mom?' Dean asked, clearly attempting to sound all cool and coy. Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes again so hard that they were in real danger of disappearing into the back of his head.

'Speaking of which?' Rory repeated, teasing now, Sam could tell. 'Nice subject change there, Frasier. There was a wedding at the inn and she had to work late.'

'So I can do this then?'

Sam knew it was coming and yet he still didn't turn away quick enough to avoid seeing Dean lean across and plant a kiss on Rory's lips. Sam could feel himself blushing furiously, like he was the one making out with his girlfriend on the living room couch. As it was, he felt incredibly awkward and uncomfortable like some creepy imposter who'd wandered into their midst. Instead he stared resolutely in the opposite direction and in an attempt to distract himself from the ongoing make out session, he thought again about just why the Trickster was making him see this.

From what he could tell, this wasn't a particularly special or important evening in the long and varied saga of Rory and Dean. This was just another day, the kind of normal, easy, light hearted day you wouldn't realise the significance of until it was gone. Was that what the Trickster was playing at here? Trying to show him what he was missing out on, the life he might have if he wasn't too bust chasing down demons with Dean? Sam smirked. Maybe the Trickster was going soft in his old age because Sam could see right through his little game. This wasn't his life at all and he didn't mean that in just a hypothetical 'oh look at what might have been' kind of way. This literally wasn't his life. Yeah, Dean Forrester looked like him and sounded like him, but the likeness stopped there. Sam wasn't Dean, Forrester or Winchester for that matter, and he couldn't have his life. End of story.

That didn't mean he didn't like the look of it though. Rory and Dean had continued their conversation now and as Sam looked over, he couldn't fail to notice the blissfully happy grin on Dean's face. He was nodding along with whatever Rory was saying, his eyes never leaving her. His next pizza slice in his hand was frozen halfway to his mouth, like he'd forgotten it was there or else he was completely distracted and captivated by Rory to care. Sam honestly couldn't remember that last time he'd felt so head over heels, skipping down the street, singing from the rooftops happy. Certainly not in a very long time. Maybe not since Jess where their relationship was in full swing and everything was light and easy and every joke was funny, no matter how bad it was.

Sam suddenly found himself wondering if he'd ever experience emotions like that again. Maybe, if against all odds and reason and logic, if he managed to get Dean out of his deal, maybe he'd be truly happy again. Maybe if he got Dean out of his deal and they gave up hunting for good and lived ordinary lives where neither of them could get hurt or killed. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Not so long ago, Sam might have said that the way to be really, properly happy again would be to go back to school and pick up where he left off more than two years ago. Now, however, he wasn't quite so sure. He wasn't thrilled at the idea of returning to Stanford, filled as it doubtless was, with memories of Jessica and that awful night and what might have been. Stanford was where he'd escaped to, the dream of normalcy he'd craved since he was about twelve years old. It just wouldn't be the same now, and college, as bright and shiny and wonderful as it had once seemed, just didn't hold the same appeal anymore.

Despite all the extra thought he'd given it today, it looked like college wasn't the automatic answer on the quest for Sam Winchester's happiness. Who'd have thought it? Not Stanford and maybe not any of the other colleges he'd researched so earnestly in his teens; not Princeton or Columbia or even Yale like Rory. Rory. Again Sam's thoughts turned to her as the teenage girl in front of him burst into laughter at something Dean said. If he kept in touch with Rory, stayed in Stars Hollow or followed her round the world, would that do? Watching the scene unfolding in front of him, it was easy to imagine so, given that the big dopey grin had yet to fade from Dean Forrester's face. And Sam knew he wasn't watching himself, he'd just worked through all that, but even still, it was nice to imagine.

Sam thought about it, tried to picture what it would be like if he really did pack everything in and hooked up with Rory, assuming, you know, she was game and everything. Was she though? That was the ting. Sure she'd been shy and a little giggly and maybe even kind of flirty this afternoon, but that didn't necessarily mean a whole lot. The more logical explanation was that she was understandably freaked by this whole thing and that was coming out in the nerves and anxious laughter. So maybe Rory wasn't the answer either, Sam contemplated, unable to keep himself from feeling a little sad, because as nice as an idea as this could potentially be, there was one very obvious thing missing from this otherwise idyllic picture. Dean.

Sam didn't mean Dean Forrester, though of course things would turn awkward very quickly if he decided to put in an appearance. No, he meant _his_ Dean, his larger than life brother who would be wiped off the face of the earth if Sam didn't put a stop to it. Even if, fingers and toes crossed, Sam found the magical solution he'd been seeking for so long, then he still couldn't see his brother fitting in here. Dean wanted a family, Sam had come to that conclusion long ago, but more specifically, he wanted _his_ family - and Sam was the only member of that family he had left now. If he did manage to save his brother, Sam wasn't about to skip out on Dean, not when he'd come so close to losing him forever. Sam had made the same mistake throughout his childhood and adolescence. Now he knew that running away solved no problems, it just made things worse.

'Nice try, buddy, it's been five minutes at least. _Pippi_ time!'

Sam was jolted from his thoughts by Rory's exclamation and he shook his head vigorously as through trying to rid all thought from his mind. The Trickster had manufactured all this so he could observe, right? So that's what Sam would do; watch this little scene and enjoy it, because God only knew when he'd be so close to such friendly domesticity again.

'You weren't being serious?' Dean sounded aghast and Sam couldn't exactly blame him.

'Serious as a heart attack,' Rory confirmed solemnly.

'Fine,' Dean sighed. 'But I deserve the last slice of pizza for this.'

'Please, sir, I want some more,' Rory teased as she jumped up from the couch and crossed to the cabinet Sam knew housed their extensive video collection. 'Come on, Dean, just admit it, you love _Pippi._'

'No, you love _Pippi,_' Dean corrected firmly.

'Yes, I do,' Rory conceded. 'And you love me.'

'Yes, I do,' Dean copied, but the totally love struck expression on his face quite plainly showed he was telling the truth.

'Good.' Rory smiled over her shoulder as she pushed the tape into the VCR and highered up the volume. 'I love you too.'

'Glad we established that,' Dean grinned, settling back into the couch like he was totally resigned to watch the movie.

'Dean?' Rory said as she sank into the couch again, leaning against him like it was the most natural thing in the world and Sam noticed Dean putting an arm round her shoulder and pulling her closer in an automatic reaction.

'Yeah?'

'You know how we just established that you love me?'

'Yeah?' Dean said again, sounding somewhat doubtful about where she was going with this now.

'Will you sing along to the theme tune? It's another Gilmore rule.'

'Can I forfeit if I give you the last slice of pizza?'

'You know me too well, Forrester.'

'That's my job, Gilmore.'

Sam saw the darkness beginning to creep around the edges of his vision, felt his head go light and dizzy and he knew he was being pulled away from this scene and back towards whatever was awaiting him back at the inn. Still he fought against it, stubbornly trying to hold his ground for as long as he could. Caught up in the moment as he was, Sam didn't really want to leave it behind and God help him if he didn't want to swap places with Dean Forrester, just in that moment...

xxxxx

'Don't believe me, huh? Well, buckle up and keep your hands and feet inside the cart at all times, ladies and gents, 'cause you ain't seen nothing yet.'

From across the room, Dean couldn't help but smirk as the Trickster delivered his ridiculous sounding statement. Talk about sounding like the corny villain in some piece of crap movie. The smirk quickly slid from his face, however, when he watched Sam suddenly drop to the ground and lie in an unmoving heap on the kitchen's tiled floor. Fear and panic instantly tore at Dean's insides as he watched his brother lie still and silent, even though he tried to reason with himself that this was probably all part of the Trickster's plans and it wasn't real. Be that as it may, it still didn't stop Dean from bolting across the kitchen, none too gently shoving the Trickster out of the way as he passed. Dean skidded to an unsteady halt and dropped to his knees as his brother's side just in time to see Rory follow Sam's lead and sway alarmingly. He reacted quickly and managed to fling out an arm to catch her before she hit the deck completely. After lowering her gently to the ground beside Sam, Dean cast his eyes towards Lorelai, watching warily to see if she was thinking of going the same way.

To his relief, or maybe not as he contemplated what her reaction was going to be, Lorelai looked as steady on her feet as ever, but she was gazing down at Rory's prone form with the same anguish, confusion and concern as Dean himself felt.

'Sammy?' he said, unable to keep a note of panic out of his voice as he turned his attention back to his brother. 'Come on, buddy, are you with me?' Sam remained silent even as Dean placed a firm hand on his shoulder and gave it a shake. 'Sam?'

'Rory?' Dean heard Lorelai over his shoulder, her voice as panicked and frantic as he had yet heard it. 'What's going on? Can you hear me?'

'What the hell have you done?' Dean demanded furiously, turning to the Trickster, who infuriatingly had the smuggest smile plastered on his face. 'Wake them up. Now!'

'Hold your horses, cowboy, we're only just getting started,' the Trickster replied calmly, thought the mischievous gleam in his eyes showed how much he was revelling in their growing panic.

'Stop pissing about, you sanctimonious son of a bitch. What the hell have you done to them?' Dean yelled, noticing grimly that even as he raised his voice, neither Rory or Dean stirred, even in the slightest.

'You always just burst in, guns blazing, don't you, Dean? You never bother to open your eyes and actually use your brain. Sammy must be the brains of the outfit, am I right? Too bad he's conked out on the ground, and little miss Gilmore too. Still, now I get a chance to speak to you two.' The Trickster broke off, grinning toothily as he spread his arms wide. 'The golden oldies, now that those whippersnappers are off in the land of nod.'

'Hey!' Dean and Lorelai shouted out in unified defence. 'It's only four years, jeez,' Dean mumbled under his breath before he realised the Trickster had successfully distracted him from the task at hand. Tricky bastard. 'That's not the point!' he corrected angrily. 'What did you do to them?'

The Trickster rolled his eyes and gave a loud, over dramatic sigh like Dean was being deliberately stupid and Dean felt his dislike for the guy increase tenfold. 'I just told you,' he said slowly. 'Wow, I guess Sam must do all the listening too. Like I was saying, they're asleep. Down for the count. Catching a few Zs.'

'Asleep?' Lorelai repeated sceptically. 'How come I don't believe you?' Dean had to admit that for someone who had only been alerted to the world of the supernatural an hour or two ago, she was fast catching onto the Trickster's antics.

'I swear!' The Trickster protested, looking extremely incredulous that anyone could possibly think otherwise. 'Scout's honor!'

'Yeah, they're just asleep,' Dean said doubtfully but as he looked at Sam, subconsciously brushing his little brother's hair off his face, it did look like he was just asleep. No, in actual fact, Sam looked too peaceful to just be asleep. Even when they trudged into their latest motel after hours of digging up graves and dodging spirits and fell straight into bed without showering or even talking, Sam rarely looked so serene. In their early days back on the road and back on the hunt together, Sam had been plagued with nightmares and, even though they didn't know it yet, visions connecting him with the demon and the other special children. Hell, even when they were kids, Sam wasn't exactly a stranger to the whole concept of nightmares, especially after Dean was forced to come clean about what their dad really did. But now, Sam was smiling, actually smiling, in his sleep and that, sad and unfortunate as that was, was sounding the alarm bells for Dean.

In stark contrast, as he looked over his shoulder, Dean noticed that Rory looked incredibly agitated and even though she lay still, her features were drawn in a tight frown. Dean was willing to bet that Rory, given the obviously nice little live she and her mom had here, didn't often go to sleep with anything else than a broad grin. Clearly, no matter what the Trickster tried to argue, they weren't just asleep.

'What the hell are you showing them?' Dean asked. 'Don't try to spin some yarn, I know they're not just asleep!'

'Just a little jaunt down memory lane,' the Trickster replied innocently. 'Nothing to get your panties in a bunch about, Dean.'

Dean elected to ignore that particular little jibe. 'Yeah, but whose memory lane?'

Watching the Trickster's face suddenly contort into a frown, Dean knew he'd hit the nail right on the head. 'What gave it away?' he asked coldly. 'Oh, I got it. Sam looks too happy, right? Man, what sad little lives you two must lead, I gotta say. Ok, fine, I might have switched their memories up a little. So sue me!'

Dean exchanged a look with an increasingly anxious Lorelai and it wasn't like he could really blame her. Any one of Sam's memories could potentially traumatise her clearly quite innocent and sheltered daughter. It was a real shame that the price of a rare moment of serenity for Sam had to come at such a price, but Dean knew his brother would be pissed as hell when he found out about all this.

'What are you showing her?' he asked quietly.

The Trickster fixed him with a steely eyed glare and Dean knew that he wasn't going to like the answer. Strictly speaking, it was never a good sign when the Trickster dropped the theatrics and became cold and somewhat serious. 'What else?' he replied, equally as quiet and cold as Dean himself. 'How could I bypass the night where all this started? It doesn't get much better than that.'

Dean could practically feel his blood going cold and his hands automatically curled into tight fists. His thoughts turned to that night, twenty five years ago, the night this all started and their lives were changed forever...He was abruptly brought out of his thoughts by the Trickster's derisive snort and he scowled at the thing's brazen reaction.

'Not that night,' the Trickster said hastily, once again smiling smugly at Dean. 'Are you kidding me? Sam can't even remember that, where's the fun?'

'What then?' Dean snapped while behind him, Lorelai burst out, 'What's going on? What are you talking about?'

The Trickster shrugged. 'Just one little night, not too long ago,' he said, in such a sickly innocent tone that Dean felt like gagging. 'You mightn't even remember it, really. Let's see, you two chuckleheads, college campus, fire, blonde girl on the ceiling, ringing any bells?'

'You bastard,' Dean said quietly, his voice actually shaking with anger. 'You...bastard.'

The Trickster clutched his chest, like he'd just been mortally wounded. 'Oh, Dean, take that back! You cut me to the quick!'

'What is it?' Lorelai asked quickly, appealing directly to Dean, even as she kept a hand on Rory's shoulder, in a mirror reflection of Sam and Dean. 'What does he mean, a girl on the ceiling?'

'The night Sammy's girlfriend died,' Dean explained, his voice sounding quiet and flat as he remembered that fateful night. 'He was still in college. It was a, uh, a demon - they're real too, by the way. It killed Jess and put her up on the ceiling above the bed and then the apartment went up in flames. I just about got Sam out of there in time.'

'Oh my God,' Lorelai whispered, her hands flying to cover her mouth as the colour drained from her face. 'Oh my God, and, and, that's what she's seeing?'

Dean gave a curt nod. 'I think so,' he muttered. He looked back at Rory. Of all the terrible, awful, godforsaken memories, she just had to see that one. The poor girl was going to be traumatised, as opposed to Sam, who looked like he was having the time of his miserable life.

'What's this all about?' Lorelai demanded of the Trickster, some of the fire now returning to her voice, though Dean noticed she was trembling slightly. 'This is how you get your kicks, huh? Let me tell you, pal, you really need to take up fishing or needlepoint or something that doesn't involve my damn kid!'

'You still think this is all some joke?' The Trickster said menacingly.

Dean raised his eyebrows incredulously. 'Uh, isn't that kind of your whole MO?' he asked disbelievingly.

'Well, yeah,' the Trickster grudgingly admitted. 'Or at least, it was until you two, Laurel and freakin' Hardy, showed up and threw a damn spanner in the works.'

Dean frowned and he knew his confusion was shared by Lorelai as she voiced her opinion behind him. 'Hang on there, I'm confused. Call me Vinnie, but didn't you want these guys to come here?' She turned to Dean for confirmation. 'I mean, this is what happened, right?'

'Right,' Dean said firmly.

'I didn't mean now, necessarily,' the Trickster said dismissively. 'God, you people are so literal. I meant in general, jeez. Things were all fine and Jim Dandy until you two showed up on the scene and turned things upside down for everyone. I can't have a good old fashioned slow dancing alien anymore without those Winchester noses sticking in where they're not wanted. And the worst thing? I actually like you guys.'

Dean couldn't refrain from rolling his eyes and the derisive gesture could hardly fail to be noticed by the Trickster. His eyes narrowed and his voice became colder as he continued his little villain monologue.

'Oh, you don't believe me? What about all the fun we had together back in Broward County?'

Dean actually laughed at that one, though it was definitely a hollow, mirthless kind of chuckle. Surely the Trickster was kidding. Maybe the events at the Mystery Spot were his kinds of fun, but Dean could find nothing particularly funny about the situation at all. 'Fun?' he repeated. 'Oh sure, that was one big helping of fun. Nothing better than freakin' dying over and over again everyday while your kid brother has to watch and not be able to help!'

'Kind of like the most messed up version of _Groundhog Day_ ever,' Lorelai commented. 'Wow, your life really is one long Bill Murray movie, isn't it?'

'Something like that,' Dean muttered. 'Definitely not fun!' he added menacingly to the Trickster.

'I don't know about that, Dean,' replied the Trickster. 'That was some of my finest work right there. It wasn't exactly a walk in the park trying to think up all those ways to kill you, but I did my best and, hey, it all worked out in the end, right? I think my personal favourite was having you die from eating a bad taco. I mean, come on! Your last words were 'Do these taste funny to you?' I thought it was a fitting tribute to you. Classic Dean.'

'What are you talking about now?' Lorelai demanded, her eyes darting nervously from Dean to the Trickster and back to Rory's still form on the ground.

'It doesn't matter. He's finished now,' Dean replied coolly.

'You think so? You know, Dean, I still have a few ideas up my sleeve that I never got round to using. What do you say we give them a spin now? Let's see, we could have you doing an extremely graceful and entertaining swan dive down the staircase and cracking your head open on the floor. That little bang on the head earlier was just an appetizer for what I've got cooking up for you. You ever watched _Jaws_, Dean? How does getting torn apart by sharks sound? Or drowning in the bathtub if you want to stay a little more local? Strangled by one of your own ugly fed ties, spontaneous combustion, stop me whenever you want, Dean, 'cause I could go on all day. Oh, I know, you'll especially like this one, how about plummeting thirty thousand feet from a crashing plane?'

'Shut up!' Dean yelled, his sudden outburst surprising both him and Lorelai, who gave a little jump. He could feel his heart hammering painfully in his chest, could hear his heavy breathing and, looking down, he realised he'd clenched his fists so tightly, his fingernails were digging deep into his palms. Dean didn't want to die, no matter how much he put on a brave face and pretended to Sam that his fate was sealed and he was absolutely fine with that. However, he was immensely grateful that Sam got to live, even if he couldn't, and Dean knew he'd make the same decision in a heartbeat, no matter the consequences. Even still, that didn't mean he was thrilled at the prospect of being some hell hound's chew toy in a few short weeks. Potentially even worse than that, however, was this damn Trickster exploding him with a snap of his fingers or whatever just for the sheer fun of it.

The Trickster grinned maliciously. 'It looks like I've hit a nerve. Touchy subject, Dean?'

'Whatever,' Dean said hurriedly. 'You feel like getting to the end of this anytime soon? I mean, don't get the wrong idea, it's not like I'm not enjoying our little chat or anything...oh wait.'

'Where was I?' The Trickster said conversationally, as though they were discussing nothing more inconsequential than the day's weather. 'Oh yeah, I was saying I liked you guys, you got your panties all twisted, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah.'

'Go on,' Dean said coldly.

'I heard about the whole deal thing you've got going on and I was interested. Back in Springfield, I thought you guys were just two humongous pains in my ass, and don't get me wrong, you still are-'

'What happened in Springfield?' Lorelai cut in.

'I'll give you the Cliff Notes later,' Dean muttered.

The Trickster continued speaking like there had been no interruption. 'But then I heard all about Cold Oak and I got to thinking, maybe these guys are more than just ugly plaid shirts and ridiculous haircuts.'

'Hey, speak for yourself,' Dean interjected.

'And then we got to the Mystery Spot, the sweet little Mystery Spot, and with you out of the way, I finally got a cozy little chat with Sammy. Let me tell you, Dean, that sure was some interesting stuff.' The Trickster grinned again as he indicated Sam's still form on the ground.

'What the hell did you say to him?' Dean asked quietly, feeling his blood starting to boil.

The Trickster shrugged. 'Oh, a little of this, a little of that. No offence, I always thought you were the dysfunctional one, Dean, but Sam? Holy _Full Metal Jacket_, Batman! He was so desperate to bring you back that he was perfectly willing to kill that guy-'

'He killed someone?' Lorelai asked incredulously and glancing round, Dean could see her warily watching Sam as though he might suddenly jump up and murder them all.

'He's lying,' Dean said quickly, not sure if he was trying to reassure Lorelai or himself. 'This thing's lying. That's what it does.'

'That thing?' Ouch, Dean, that was cold. I'm guessing Sam didn't show and tell that little tidbit. Lucky I was there, right? You should have seen it, Dean, there I was, spinning this tale about how he'd have to kill, wait, what's the guy's name again? Grumpy, always wears a baseball cap, you go whining to him with all your pathetic little problems?'

Behind him, Lorelai made a noise like she was about to say something and Dean frowned. Surely this chick wasn't about to say that she knew Bobby too? That really would be the cherry on top of the freak show cake. That thought, however, was quickly forgotten about as the meaning behind the Trickster's words sunk into Dean's brain. Did that really happen, would Sam really have killed Bobby if it meant bringing Dean back? Dean couldn't, or maybe he just didn't want to, believe it. He knew his brother wasn't an innocent little kid anymore, but even still, it was hard to reconcile the idea of a potential murderer with the sleeping Sam in front of him, who was still smiling to himself like an idiot. It didn't matter that it was really the Trickster and not the real Bobby in Dean's eyes. A sudden thought occurred to him, but he stubbornly pushed it aside. It was irrelevant what Dean would have done in that situation because Sam wasn't dying, and he wasn't going to be anytime soon. Dean had taken care of that himself.

'Hey, don't be getting too excited there,' the Trickster said, talking directly to Lorelai. 'I'm not talking about your grumpy, baseball cap wearing problem solver.'

Lorelai didn't look exactly comforted by the Trickster's words, but Dean did notice she was stroking Rory's hair. He wondered who the gesture was meant to comfort and it was a moment or two before he realised that he still hadn't let go of Sam's shoulder either.

'As much as Psycho Sam freaked the hell out of me, he did get me thinking. It doesn't have to be that way, you know?'

For the first time, Dean found himself in total agreement with the Trickster. It didn't have to be that way, not at all, not even a little bit. In a couple of weeks when Dean was...when Dean was otherwise engaged, Sam couldn't go down that route. He just couldn't. His brother was meant for much bigger and better things and Dean hadn't brought him back to life just for him to tear himself looking for a get out clause. The kid had been beating himself up about this for weeks, wracked with a guilt that wasn't his, and Dean was damned, pun intended, if that was going to continue even after his death. There was so much more Sam could, and should, be doing. He could stay in the family business if that's what he really wanted; carrying on researching to his geeky heart's content, making sure other families didn't get destroyed like theirs was, and saving people like he was damn good at, even though he'd fought against it all those years. Better still, Sam could go back to school, pick up the dream however many years later and actually turn up for the law school interview this time. Dean knew Sam would ace it, he wasn't called Geek Boy for nothing, go on to law school ace that too and become some hot shot lawyer who raked in the Benjamins. He could meet a nice girl, fall in love, settle down, have a white picket fence and a dog and 2.5 kids.

And finally, Dean was starting to see the Trickster's logic, if such a thing even existed. Bringing them to this town with these people, giving Sam the dreams who showed a kid like him leading the perfect apple pie life...it was all some misguided attempt to show him what he could have, who he could be, after Dean was gone. He didn't have to be entirely consumed by cold revenge to the point where he could kill someone like Bobby. Ni, he could be at school, or he could be here with Rory. Normal and happy and safe; a million miles away from the crap that usually followed them around. Sam could be safe here and he might even liven the place up a little, God only knew the Impala was the only decent car around here for miles.

'You were trying to help Sam,' Dean said quietly, almost to himself more than anyone else. 'Trying to help him see another way, I mean.'

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see Lorelai shaking her head in confusion but the Trickster was smiling smugly and Dean knew he was on the right track.

'By George, I think he's got it!' The Trickster exclaimed. 'How many times do I have to say it? I like you guys, really I do, but the whole co-dependency thing you've got going on? Creeps me out. There's more to life than just sacrificing yourself for your bro over and over again, and it's about time Sam figured that out. It's too late for you, Dean, hell, I think it's always been too late for you, but you wouldn't wish this on Sam, would you?'

'No,' Dean admitted quietly, the answer coming before he even had a chance to think or process. He could practically hear his dad's sternest Marine voice in his head. _Watch out for Sammy, Dean. Look after your little brother, boy. Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back._

'I never thought I'd see the day but it looks like you and I are on the same page, Dean.'

'Yeah, well, don't be getting used to it,' Dean muttered uncomfortably. 'And that's why he was having the dreams, wasn't it?'

The Trickster nodded. 'I had to get him interested enough to come here. That whole fake poltergeist was just to get your attention but when Sam worked out the connection, I knew he wouldn't be able to stay away. He'd come here, see the town, meet the people, maybe stay away from the dark and twisty path. It was a long shot but I had a free weekend. What's a guy to do?'

Dean's eyes narrowed as he tried to think of how to respond. It wasn't very often that Dean Winchester was at a complete and utter loss for words, but this was one of those rare occasions. From the sounds of it, the Trickster seemed to have Sam's best interests in mind, no matter how screwed up that sounded. Since he was four years old, Dean had been taught to be wary and distrustful of the things that went bump in the night. It was the reason why, whatever Sam felt about her, Dean knew he could never bring himself to trust Ruby, and the Trickster was no different, right?

Dean was saved from thinking of something to say by Lorelai. Indeed, the sound of her loud and more than a little pissed off voice startled Dean; he had almost forgotten that she and Rory were even there.

'What about us?' she shouted. 'Where do we fit into all of this? Why did you have to trash my inn and, more importantly, why is my daughter lying on the ground having someone else's nightmares?'

The Trickster rolled his eyes and Dean could practically hear Lorelai bristling with anger. He saw her lunge forward and he hastily put out an arm to hold her back.

'That's not a good idea,' he hissed out of the corner of her mouth. 'Seriously, don't.'

'I already told you I needed the setting, didn't I?' the Trickster said slowly, like Lorelai was the one being difficult now. 'This place, you people, all the coincidences with Winchester Numero Dos, it was just too good an opportunity to pass up.'

'So you just used us,' Lorelai said quietly, her voice now flat and stripped of all her previous anger. Even still, she sounded scarier than ever and Dean did not envy the Trickster one little bit. 'You used her,' she indicated Rory, who still had her fists tightly clenched and her features twisted into a frown. 'You just used her because she was in the way, is that it?'

The Trickster looked hurt, like Lorelai had personally offended him. 'Now, hang on just one second. Was that my original plan? Alright, maybe it was. You got me, whatever. But then, it occurred to me, little miss Poindexter needs this just as much as Gigantor does. Hell, maybe even more?'

'What the hell are you talking about now?' Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes. Honestly, the Trickster had had the floor for too long already and enough was more than freakin' enough.

'What am I talking about?' he repeated. 'What are you talking about what am I talking about? Dean, you know anything about the lovely Rory here?'

'Uh, no, not really,' Dean admitted, keeping an eye on Lorelai to make sure she wasn't about to lunge forward again.

'Oh great, allow me to fill you in. You aren't in a hurry or anything, right? Let's see, Rory Gilmore, apple of her mom's, and everyone who comes within a hundred feet of her, eye. Valedictorian, top of her class, graduated from the Ivy League with flying colours, walked straight into a job...is that everything?' he added, with a glance towards Lorelai.

'Sounds about right,' she replied through gritted teeth.

'In short, everything your brother might have turned out like, Dean, if fate hadn't intervened. You know, if mommy hadn't burned on the ceiling and daddy hadn't gone all _Kill Bill_,' the Trickster continued with a mischievous look in Dean's direction now.

'What?' Lorelai exclaimed, turning to look at Dean with shock and incredulity written all over her face.

'Long story,' Dean said hastily, 'like _Never Ending Story_ proportions.'

'Oh very funny,' she snapped.

'So what's the big plan here?' Dean asked. 'She's a smart kid, he's a smart kid, you switched their memories about. Care to fill in the blanks?'

'It really is like _Freaky Friday_,' Lorelai muttered, 'only a hundred times creepier.'

The Trickster grinned. 'I've never seen anyone who needed to get out of the comfort zone more. I mean talk about a sheltered and cushy life! This girl here takes the cake. You know, she's never even seen a gun in real life before?' he added conversationally to Dean. 'You and Sam were already shooting things before you reached double digits, right? But this gal? Up until today she'd never even seen one, let alone shoot one!'

Dean frowned. 'So you thought you'd enlighten her then, shed some light on the crap fest that is our lives, huh?'

The Trickster nodded. 'One access all areas, fast pass straight to Winchester land.'

'That's what this is all about?' Lorelai burst out. 'Oh, you son of a bitch!'

'Looks like you're rubbing off on her, Dean,' the Trickster smirked. 'You should stick around for a bit. You might actually be good for this place, just remember to make yourself scarce when the hellhounds come a-knockin'. You wouldn't want Lorelai to be cleaning your insides off her upholstery.'

As the Trickster continued his gleeful tirade and Lorelai looked like she was about to explode, a sudden thought occurred to Dean. He had a sure fire way to get rid of the Trickster and it had been in front of him all along. Well, in his back pocket to be precise; his stake, or at least the spoon he'd been fashioning into a stake before he'd been so rudely interrupted by the Trickster. Unbeknownst to him, however, and potentially to everyone else in the room, Dean hadn't dropped it when he'd been caught red handed. He'd shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans, in case a situation arose where he could make use of it. And if ever a situation called for a stake, it was this one right here.

Neither Lorelai or the Trickster seemed to be paying Dean much attention, which suited him down to the ground at the present moment in time. Carefully and as inconspicuously as possible, Dean eased the stake out of his pocket, being sure to keep it behind his back and gave it a quick feel to make sure it was sharp enough. Grimacing slightly, he decided it would have to do. The victim's blood was the most important aspect, Dean reasoned, and it would be hard enough to do that unnoticed without trying to sharpen it too. The blood thing was going to be problematic enough, Dean could already tell. Earlier, before he went all Sleeping Beauty, Sam had been convinced that it had to be his blood since he seemed to be at the centre of all this. Privately, Dean agreed, the Trickster did seem to have an unhealthy obsession with Sam, but that didn't mean he was game for slicing his little brother open. Dean would much rather do it himself and get it over with, but it didn't look like that was going to be the case. They really couldn't afford to slip up on ganking the Trickster again and it looked like Sammy's blood was the key to that. Fan_freakin'_tastic.

Slowly, very slowly, Dean retrieved his old silver knife from the inside pocket of his jacket. Once the Trickster realised what he was up to, Dean knew he'd be pissed and would put a stop to it right away. And Dean really didn't like the guy when he was angry. Content that, at least for now, the Trickster was engrossed in his own pathetic little monologue, Dean leaned over Sam and took one of his hands, hoping it looked no more suspicious than one of his dreaded chick flick moments. In spite of his caution, Lorelai must have caught a glimpse of the silver knife and her eyes flew to meet his at once. For once, someone must have been watching out for them because Lorelai stayed silent and a slight nod was the only acknowledgment she gave. Dean shifted round slightly, trying to block what he was doing from the Trickster's view and sweating profusely all the while. Man, this kind of thing was never as easy as they made it look in the movies.

Dean hesitated for a fraction of a second, Lorelai seemed to be holding her breath too, before tightening his grip on the knife and quickly dragging the blade across Sam's palm. So deep in whatever dream world the Trickster had sent him off to, Sam didn't make a noise or even flinch as the shockingly scarlet blood welled up and began to drip down his hand. Small miracles and all that. Dean worked quickly, turning Sam's hand so the blood dripped onto the pointed end of the stake. It didn't look like very much, but it was a wooden stake dipped in the blood of one of the Trickster's victims, so it had to work, right? Conscious that Sam's hand was still bleeding and showing no signs of stopping anytime soon, Dean fished in his pocket again but sooner had he pulled out his trusty rag when Lorelai reached across and tugged it out of his hand.

'I'll do it,' she mouthed. 'You take care of him!'

Dean nodded, with the idea that he'd be more than making it up to Sam by taking out the Trickster once and for all. Taking a deep breath, Dean gripped the stake even tighter before turning round - and finding himself face to face with the Trickster.

'Dean, Dean, Dean,' he said almost pityingly. 'Nice try with all the cloak and dagger stuff there, but did you really think I wouldn't notice? Hello? Have you forgotten who you're dealing with here?'

Dean made no reply, thinking now wasn't the best time to antagonise him any further, but remained rooted to the spot, his arm still raised and the stake still poised. Maybe, just maybe, if the Trickster made even the slightest move, he'd be able to take his shot.

'I could say many things about you, Dean.' the Trickster mused thoughtfully.

'I think I've probably heard them all by now,' Dean muttered.

'But you have guts, I'll give you that much,' the Trickster continued. 'And for that, just because you've caught me on a good day, I'm going to give you a get out of jail free card.'

'What?' Dean and Lorelai exclaimed in unison.

The Trickster shrugged. 'What can I say? That's just how I roll.'

Dean was so surprised by this latest turn of events that he didn't react, even as the Trickster began to move away.

'If you ever get round to thinking with your upstairs brain for a change, Dean, think about what I said, if it doesn't hurt your head too much. Lorelai, it was a pleasure, we must do lunch sometime. Tell Narcolepsy Boy and Girl I said howdy.'

'I - Wait a second!' Dean felt extremely uncertain of what was going on and his hand twitched involuntarily, like he'd just remembered he was holding a freakin' stake.

His action hadn't gone unnoticed by the Trickster whose eyes instantly narrowed. 'I wouldn't try that if I were you,' he said coolly. 'I know your sorry ass has an express ticket to Hell in the not too distant, but I have a feeling we'll meet again, one way or another. Catch you on the flip side!'

With one last look around the room and their bewildered faces, the Trickster gave another smug smile and with a snap of his fingers, kind of an overdramatic gesture in Dean's opinion, he had vanished completely into thin air.

A split second later, Rory came to with a loud gasp, her eyes flying wide open and her breath coming in deep heaves.

'Rory!' Lorelai turned to her daughter at once and helped her up to a sitting position before holding her close and beginning to stroke her hair again. 'Rory, sweetie, it's ok, it's all over. You're safe, I promise, I'm here and everything's going to be ok.'

'Why did you show me that?' Rory was saying, a little incoherently through tears and Dean frowned, knowing what a number this whole thing must have done on her head. 'Sam...Sam! Jess...I-I'm sorry...why did you show me that? I can't...I don't...why did you show me that?'

A moment or two later, Sam gradually began to come to, like he was slowly waking up from the best damn sleep of his life. Dean adjusted the rag round the cut on his hand. It wasn't like Lorelai had done a bad job or anything but he just liked to be sure. He couldn't deny the twinge of nervous anxiety that began to set in the longer it took Sam to wake up. What could be so good to make his brother so reluctant to open his freakin' eyes? Finally, Sam began to look even remotely close to rejoining the land of the living but before he'd even fully opened his eyes, he seemed to be muttering under his breath. No, was he singing? He leaned in closer, trying to recognise the tune and exchanged a concerned look with Lorelai over the still sobbing Rory's head.

From some dark and dusty recess of his brain, he managed to place the tune and it was all Dean could do not to laugh out loud. Seeing Sam's eyes finally blinking up at him, Dean hauled him up and gave him a quick once over, before he was unable to restrain himself any longer.

'Dude, why the hell are you singing the theme tune to _Pippi Longstocking_?'

**A/N: Hello again! To make up for the delay, this is an extra long chapter (more than 9000 words this time which is about three times the length of my average chapter!) This is the story beginning to wind down now I think, and if all goes to plan there will be another 2-3 chapters to wrap everything up nicely. As always, thank you for your interest in this little story and any and all reviews, follows and favourites are very gladly appreciated. **


	12. Chapter 12

'Well it's not every day you fight an imaginary poltergeist, come face to face with an literal demigod, give some memories the old switch-a-roo and live to tell the tale,' Lorelai commented lightly. 'I don't know about you guys, but I haven't had such an exciting day since Al's Pancake World was shut down by Environmental Health and the town started a black market in crappy food.'

'I don't know,' Dean responded at once. 'That sounds pretty awesome to me.'

Lorelai raised her eyebrows.

'Hey,' Dean said defensively. 'You should see some of the crap food we eat on the road. Getting some cheap sounds like a plan if you ask me.'

'I think we have some leftovers in the inn's kitchen,' Lorelai mused. 'If you want, you can take-'

Dean cut her off. 'Thanks but no thanks. Didn't you say your chef, Suzie or whatever-'

'Sookie,' Lorelai corrected.

'Whatever,' Dean said dismissively. 'Didn't you say she was trying out some low sodium menu or something?'

Lorelai nodded. 'What's that got to do with anything?'

Dean gave a totally incredulous expression like she was being incredibly stupid. 'Please, crappy road food trumps low sodium any day of the week. Screw that crap. I'm a warrior.'

'Yeah, well, enjoy your McHeart attack.'

'Been there done that,' Dean grinned.

Lorelai smiled back though she felt the supreme effort of it and knew it didn't quite reach her eyes.

'Something wrong?' Dean asked at once, looking at her now with some concern.

'You want a hand out to your car with your stuff?' Lorelai asked brightly, wondering if her overly cheery tone sounded as forced as it felt. Dean looked confused but he followed her line of vision to where Rory and Sam were standing side by side, leaning up against the counter, not speaking to each other and each resolutely staring in opposite directions, and he seemed to understand in an instant.

'Sure,' he said quickly. 'Uh, grab that crowbar, would you?'

Lorelai nodded and lifted the crowbar up from where Sam had abandoned it on the ground - damn, those things were much heavier than they looked in the cartoons. Just before leaving the kitchen, she took a last glance over her shoulder at Rory.

'Rory, sweetie?' she said tentatively and Rory jumped, like she'd just been startled out of some deep dream. 'I'll be back in a minute, ok? Sixty seconds tops, just call me Speedy Gonzales-'

Dean loudly cleared his throat and quickly put an end to her ramblings and just in time too, otherwise Lorelai might have gone on all night. She wasn't exactly famed for her tendencies to shut up and stay quiet after all.

'Coming,' she said quickly.

'Sammy, keep an eye on Rory, ok?' Dean called, hoisting a duffel bag onto his shoulder now.

Sam nodded, but Lorelai noticed he didn't speak or even move closer to Rory at all. She frowned, but decided to reserve judgement and bite her tongue - the miracle of miracles - until she could speak to Dean in private. Lorelai followed Dean out to the sparsely filled parking lot and watched as he approached the classic black car she'd noticed earlier.

'Nice car,' Lorelai couldn't help but comment in spite of herself and the situation.

'Thanks,' Dean smiled. 'She was my dad's. Kind of a family heirloom.'

'She?' Lorelai repeated. 'Sorry, I didn't realise we were acting out _Fast and Furious.'_

Dean raised an eyebrow as he fished in his jacket pocket for his keys. 'Yeah, something like that,' he muttered.

Dean opened the car's trunk and Lorelai tried and failed to stifle a gasp. She always thought her car was messy, certainly Luke and Rory told her off about it enough times, but she had absolutely nothing on this guy. While the back of her car was filled with old takeaway coffee cups and crumpled shopping bags, this one seemed to be jam packed with guns and scary looking knives and what appeared to be rosary beads and bottles of holy water. As weird as this was, this wasn't even the strangest thing she'd come across today. Even still, it wasn't like she could just ignore it.

'Homer and Langley Collyer called,' she said, unable to help herself. 'They want all their junk back.

Dean didn't even deign to answer but instead took the crowbar from her and tossed it into the pile where it landed with a loud clunk. Lorelai opened her mouth to speak, to ask the questions that had plagued her since this whole thing started, but she chickened out at the last second, afraid of what the answers might be.

'So, uh, nice car,' she found herself saying, just because Dean was looking at her expectantly.

Dean frowned a little. 'You already said that,' he pointed out.

'That's a Chevy, right?' she pressed on, well aware that he was probably under the impression that she'd lost her marbles.

'Sure is. A '67 Impala,' he agreed, watching her warily.

'Nice,' Lorelai said hastily in a horrendously obvious attempt to cover up what she really wanted to say. 'We, uh, we have a jeep, see, it's right over there but my husband, he, uh, he has this really old truck but I hate driving a stick so-'

Dean held up a hand and Lorelai fell silent at once. 'Something tells me you didn't want to talk to me in private about my car. I mean, you can if you want to, I'll talk about my baby all day to whoever's listening, but...' he trailed off, looking at her like he expected her to fill in the blanks.

Lorelai opened her mouth to speak once more and then closed it. Dean could hardly fail to notice her hesitation now.

'Come on, spit it out,' he said encouragingly. 'You're doing a pretty good impression of a goldfish right about now, so unless that's what you're going for...'

'Is that what you say to all the girls?' she snapped. 'Sorry,' she added quickly, instantly softening at his somewhat wounded expression. 'It's just this day, this whole thing, you know?'

Lorelai's words barely made a lick of sense, not even to herself, but Dean nodded and she could tell he understood. 'I know,' he said quietly. 'It's a lot to take in, huh?'

'Yeah, I'll say,' Lorelai admitted shakily.

Silence fell between them for a moment or two; Dean busied himself closing and locking the car's trunk while Lorelai watched, trying to phrase what she needed to say.

'I'll bet it's not like you to be so lost for words,' Dean commented wryly some time later, startling Lorelai out of her thoughts. 'Look, I get it,' he said gently, 'you're worried. Hell, I'd be more concerned if you _weren't_ worried. But he's gone, alright? The Trickster was only here because of us and once we get the hell out of Dodge, you won't be bothered again, I promise. It wasn't a real poltergeist and this town is so squeaky clean you couldn't have any other supernatural problem even if you tried.'

'But what about Rory?' Lorelai burst out, unable to keep the thoughts to herself any longer. 'You saw her in there, you told me yourself all the things he was making her see. How is she ever going to be ok after all this?'

Dean paused a moment before replying which did nothing to quash Lorelai's rising fear but when he spoke at last, his voice was kind. 'She'll be ok,' he said, a kind of firm insistence behind his tone. 'She's a smart kid, right, a good kid? She can work through this.'

'But what if she can't?' Lorelai whispered, finally admitting her greatest fear about all of this, not only to Dean, but to herself as well.

Dean smiled sadly. 'She will.'

'But-' Lorelai began but Dean cut her off before she could get any further.

'I'm not going to lie to you,' he stated. 'What she saw, it wasn't nice, it definitely wasn't pretty and it was probably the worst night of Sammy's life which, coming from us, is saying a lot, believe me. But she'll get over it and you two can go back to normal and pretend we never existed.'

Lorelai gave a hollow sort of smile in response. 'I'm pretty sure that's not going to happen.'

'No?'

'No, seeing as how my daughter has developed a humongous high school-esque crush on your brother.'

Dean laughed. 'I never took Sam for a ladies' man. I guess it's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for, huh?'

'What about Sam?' Lorelai asked, her thoughts straying back to everything the Trickster had let slip about Dean's brother. 'I mean, is he going to be ok?'

Dean sighed heavily. 'Yeah,' he said wearily. 'Sam's going to be just fine.'

Lorelai frowned. 'I saw you in there,' she said quietly. 'You were as worried about him as I was about Rory and she's my _kid_. You're still worried now, I can tell.'

'Are you kidding me?' Dean replied, clearly aiming for a jaunty, offhand tone that wasn't fooling anyone. 'I worry about that kid every day of his damn life.'

'I suppose it comes with the territory of being...' Lorelai broke off. 'What is your actual job title? I mean, what do you call yourselves?'

'Hunters,' Dean supplied.

Lorelai wrinkled her nose. 'Hunters? But instead of shooting Bambi's mom you kill ghosts, is that it?'

'Sounds about right.'

'I still Ghost Busters is a much better name,' Lorelai commented, attempting to lighten the atmosphere a little if she could. 'I mean, come on, you could decorate your car and everything.'

'You stay away from my car,' Dean responded at once, though Lorelai couldn't help but notice that Dean seemed to be simply going through the motions. There seemed to be no energy or enthusiasm behind his words and he frowned.

'Fine, the Mystery Machine is safe,' she said, playing along with him for now.

Dean smiled, a smile that didn't reach anywhere even remotely near his eyes and Lorelai knew she couldn't just let this one go. After all, he'd been perfectly willing to help her out, she should return the favor, right?

'Are you ok?' she said gently. 'Is this about Sam? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything.'

'It's fine,' Dean said quickly, dismissing the thought with a wave of his hand. 'Honestly. It's fine, _I'm_ fine.'

'Yeah, sure, and whoops! There goes a flying pig right over your heard there! Hang on, flying pigs aren't real too, are they?' she added hastily.

'Not that I've ever seen,' Dean smiled, 'and point taken. I think.'

'You want to talk about it?' Lorelai asked. 'I'll get my Dr Laura on and we can work it out.'

'I'm not really the caring and sharing type,' Dean said quickly.

'Right,' Lorelai mused slowly, 'except for back in the inn where you were spilling all the beans, letting all the cats out of the bags-'

'That was different,' Dean interjected. 'That was, you know, the job.'

'And this isn't?'

'No. Well, kind of. Not really.'

Lorelai sighed. 'I understand. He's your, I was going to say little but what you know what I mean, _younger_ brother. You're worried about him, I get it.'

'It's not just that,' Dean admitted quietly. 'It's like, I don't know, I've been watching out for him, looking after him since we were just little kids,'

'But he's grown up now,' Lorelai said gently, not at all sure what she was supposed to be saying in this situation.

Dean laughed. 'You think I hadn't worked that out yet? I realised that when he turned sixteen and overtook me in the height department. I swear, only in my family, could being 6"1 make you the small one. He thought that was hilarious, the little punk, when he had to look down just to talk to me. He didn't think it was just as funny, though, when he kept growing and grew out of all his clothes. The kid was walking around in jeans that stopped halfway up his legs for weeks before my dad noticed.'

Lorelai found herself smiling at Dean's faraway look and the obviously nostalgic quality of his voice. Then she remembered something the Trickster had said and the smile instantly dropped from her face. _'If Mommy hadn't burned on the ceiling and Daddy hadn't gone all Kill Bill.'_ Something told her Dean's little trip down memory lane wasn't going to have a happy ending.

'You two are close, huh?' she said, realising how stupid it sounded, but unable to think of anything else to say in that moment.

Dean nodded. 'Yeah, yeah, I guess you could say that. I'd do anything for him. Hell, I _have_ done anything for him.'

'You looked after him,' Lorelai said knowledgably.

Dean looked at her a little curiously. 'Yeah,' he said slowly.

The two lapsed into silence once more before another thought occurred to Lorelai and she announced it to Dean.

'So what happens next?' she asked. 'You and the Boy Wonder just hump back into the Bat Mobile and drive off into the sunset and we just keep calm and carry on? I know that's what you said earlier, but really?'

Dean nodded again. 'That's what normally goes down. Trust me, whenever we show up, it's never a good sign. People are normally more than pleased to see the back of us.'

'That's a little harsh.'

Dean raised his eyebrows. 'Can you honestly say you'll remember this whole thing fondly? It's not really something you'd tell the grandkids one day, is it?'

'Not unless the Rugrats were seriously annoying me,' Lorelai joked. 'But seriously, that's not because of you. You were trying to save us, right, and, uh, hunt the Trickster?'

'Saving people and hunting things,' Dean said automatically.

'Come again?' Lorelai frowned.

'That's what my dad used to say to us when Sam would bitch about what we had to do, or if we whined about target practice or whatever. _Look alive, boys, we've got a job to do. Saving people, hunting things, the family business. We've got a job to do and we're damn well going to do it and do it right.'_

'You should get that on a bumper sticker.'

Dean chuckled. 'My dad wasn't really the bumper sticker type, though Sam used to come home with hundreds of the things. You know, _my kid's on the honor roll_ and all that crap. Now, if they made one that said _my kid killed a werewolf last night_, then that might have interested him.'

'That must have been some childhood,' Lorelai said quietly. 'And here's me thinking mine was bad because my parents didn't understand me and I got knocked up at sixteen. They would have made a bad Hallmark movie out of mine, but yours sounds more than an old horror flick.'

Dean shrugged. 'It was what it was,' he said, a little defensively Lorelai noted. 'I didn't mind and anyway, it was always harder on Sam.'

'Oh yeah?' Lorelai asked, not wanting to sound eager or pushy when in reality se was just glad he was opening up, even a little. If ever anyone needed to talk and get thing off his chest, it was the man standing beside her. Maybe she was good at all this Dr Laura stuff and should start publishing an advice column next, as if she didn't already have a hundred and one things to do. Anything had to be better than the Ask Kirk column an anonymous person, Kirk presumably, kept posting in her mailbox.

'Yeah,' Dean repeated somewhat sadly. 'It was, like, he never had a choice, you know?'

'Did you?' Lorelai questioned, unable to help herself.

Dean glanced at her sideways. 'I didn't mind,' he said again. 'I was fine. Sam, well, he had other ideas, he wanted out and he went to college on a full ride. He did pre law at Stanford. He was going to go to law school too, had the interview all lined up and everything and he was ready to go ace that too. I think he'd still be there now if, uh, if other stuff hadn't got in the way...' he trailed off.

'His girlfriend?' Lorelai suggested, remembering what he'd told her earlier.

Dean nodded. 'That just kind of messed things up and we were back on the job again. Stanford got left very firmly in the rear view mirror.'

'At least you're together again,' Lorelai pointed out. 'That's good, right?'

Dean shrugged. 'Good for who? You heard the Trickster, Sam could be just like Rory, you know? He could ditch all this for good, go back to school, get a good, legit job, whatever.'

'Maybe he doesn't want all that anymore?' Lorelai suggested helpfully.

'Are you kidding me? That's been Sam's dream since he was a little kid. He never wanted to be an astronaut or a soccer player or a fireman like other kids, like me. He just wanted to go to school and be normal. That's the one thing I couldn't give him. How pathetic and messed up is that?'

'It's not pathetic,' Lorelai argued, 'not at all.'

'Yeah,' Dean said gruffly. 'Whatever.'

Out of the corner of her eye, Lorelai could have sworn she saw what looked like tears shining in Dean's eyes but a second later he had cleared his throat, discreetly dragging a sleeve across his eyes, and they were gone.

'How did we even get onto this?' he asked quickly.

'I asked what was going to happen next,' she reminded him quietly.

'Right. Well, like I said, we get out of your hair and you have a party to celebrate the end of this crap fest. Ding dong, the Trickster's gone or whatever.'

Lorelai rolled her eyes. 'And what about you two?'

Dean frowned. 'Again, like I said, we get-'

It was Lorelai's turn to cut him off now. 'Yes, I know, you get out of the way, I already heard that one. Put a new record on, buddy. I mean, are you going to talk to Sam about any of this?'

Dean's frown deepened but he made no reply which Lorelai took as her cue to continue speaking. 'I get the feeling that you two talk a lot at each other, but not really _to_ each other, am I right?'

'You managed to get that just from tonight?' Dean asked, sounding like he was beginning to come round a little. 'I'm impressed.'

'Haven't I told you my middle name is Freud?' Lorelai joked. 'That's my usual conversation opener.'

'Is that what you and Rory would do?' Dean asked, looking curious in spite of himself. 'Talk about all this crap I mean?'

Lorelai raised her eyebrows. 'You're kidding right? That's all we do. Talk, drink some coffee, talk some more, eat some pizza, talk through whatever movie we're watching and then, oh yeah, talk some more,' she teased.

'Sounds nice,' Dean said wistfully and for some reason that, more than anything else he'd said or done that night, seemed to drive something big and pointy right through her heart.

'It has its moments,' she said lightly. 'Life's short, talk fast. Put that on your bumper sticker.'

'Yeah, it is,' Dean said thoughtfully. 'You got that right.'

'So after you ditch the crazy lady prying into your private life, talk or , you know not, with Sam, then what? You drive round until some other poor sucker with a ghost problem?'

'Pretty much,' Dean shrugged. 'It's a good way to see the country at least. I've seen the world's largest ball of twine about ten times now.'

'Fun,' Lorelai said drily.

'Yep.'

'And after that?' Lorelai pressed on, well aware she sounded like some intrepid reporter trying to get the scoop on Dean. Rory would be proud. 'After that, just more of the same until...' she trailed off, looking at him to supply the answers.

'Until one day you can't do it anymore,' he said simply and for some reason, Lorelai felt a chill go down her spine at his words.

'What, you retire?' she said brightly, trying to mask her sudden discomfort. 'You check into some retirement home with all the other old hunters and talk about the glory days hunting down Casper and his not so friendly pals?'

'Nobody really retires from the job,' Dean said solemnly, and, yep, there was that shiver down Lorelai's spine again. 'People try, but it always catches up with them in the end, hell, Sammy's practically the poster child. No, you just keep on trucking, doing what you can't, until you can't.'

Lorelai wanted to say something but none of the words that came to mind seemed good enough or in any way appropriate for the situation. Just what _were_ you supposed to say in the face of Dean's surprisingly frank admission?

'Where do you go from here then?' she asked quietly, more to break the silence than for any profound, intelligent reason.

Dean shrugged. 'Don't know yet. We don't usually have a distinct route in mind, we just go where we're needed. I'm thinking we just lie low for the next few weeks, take on a few little jobs to tide us over and then-' He abruptly broke off, a dark expression suddenly clouding his features.

'And then what?' Lorelai asked.

'Nothing,' Dean said hastily. 'Forget I mentioned it.'

'Come on, you can't just leave me with a cliff hanger like that, I won't be able to sleep trying to work it out. It'll be worse than when JR got shot-'

'Weren't you listening back there?' Dean asked flatly gesturing back towards the inn. 'The Trickster sure spelled it out nice and plain for me.'

Lorelai frowned as she cast her mind back. In all honesty, she'd been so overwhelmed by the Trickster freely admitting that he'd just used Rory as a pawn in his little game with the Winchesters that she'd kind of zoned out. Even still, she could hardly fail to notice the creature taunting Dean about...about going to Hell. But surely not? Surely he was just taunting Dean, trying to get him even more agitated and worked up, right?'

'Hell?' she found herself whispering.

Dean gave a curt nod and Lorelai felt like she was going to throw up. It couldn't be, it just couldn't. The guy beside her, who had burst in guns blazing to save her daughter and her inn couldn't be headed to Hell. And how would he even know such a thing? And anyway, who even said that Hell was real in the first place? It just didn't make sense and Lorelai voiced this opinion to Dean who, unbelievingly, smiled.

'I know I'm going to Hell,' he said gently, 'because I arranged it myself.'

'You what?' Lorelai could feel both her volume and her temper rising the longer this went on. How could anyone be so stupid and just why would they want to?

'I arranged it,' he repeated quietly. 'I made a deal with a crossroads demon-'

'You can do that?' Lorelai asked, momentarily sidetracked from her train of thought.

'Yes you can, but don't even think about it,' Dean said fiercely.

'Of course I won't!' Lorelai quickly defended herself. 'Jeez. Why would you even make a deal like that anyway? I mean, what could possibly be so important-'

'Sam got killed,' Dean said simply and Lorelai fell silent at once. 'He got killed, literally stabbed in the back right in front of me. I distracted him, and then I couldn't get to him in time, so I just watched and then, uh, then he died, right there in my arms. Last thing he said was my name.' Dean broke off, his voice curiously thick and heavy now and Lorelai could feel a sting in her own eyes. 'After that, well, I, uh, couldn't...I made a deal. Sam came back, good as new, and I'm headed for eternal damnation, whatever. That was almost a year ago now.'

'That's how long you got?' Lorelai asked quietly. 'A year?'

Dean nodded. 'People normally get ten,' he commented in an offhand tone like they weren't discussing anything remotely important. 'I just caught my demon in a bad mood, I guess. Luck of the draw.'

'So that's it then?' Lorelai burst out. 'You're going to Hell in a couple of weeks and that's just it?'

Dean frowned. 'What do you expect me to do?' he asked, a note of anger in his voice now that she hadn't heard since the Trickster had made himself scarce.

Lorelai shrugged her shoulders. 'You're the expert in this stuff, not me. Can't you, I don't know, fight against it or appeal it or something?'

Dean gave a hollow, mirthless sort of laugh that suggested that it really wasn't funny at all. 'You can't really take demons to court,' he said coolly. 'And besides, don't you think we've tried everything, looked into everything? If there was a way out, believe me, we'd have found it. Anyway, my deal had another condition; I try to find a loophole or cheat my way out, then Sam's dead. I won't let my little brother die on my watch, I just won't. Not again.' He broke off, breathing heavily through his nose, his chest and shoulders heaving and Lorelai couldn't think of a more pitiable sight.

'I'm sorry,' she said quietly. 'I didn't mean it like that, I was just surprised, that's all.'

'I know,' Dean said sincerely. 'I shouldn't have snapped, I'm sorry. It's just so-'

'Unfair?' Lorelai suggested.

'Frustrating,' he corrected. 'We've been looking, _Sam's_ been looking so hard and I just don't have it in me to let him down anymore.'

'Let him down?' Lorelai repeated incredulously. 'Dean, he idolises you, anyone can see that.'

'Sam hasn't looked up to me in a very long time,' Dean said seriously. 'And I don't mean that just because he's the Jolly Green Giant. Not since the deal, maybe even before that, but especially not since then. I brought him back just to see me die and then have to go on by himself. I get it, I really do, my dad did the same thing for me and it hurt like a bitch but I know I'd do it again. I'd do the exact same thing in a heartbeat and to hell, literally, with the consequences.'

Lorelai was about to ask just what he meant by _'my dad did the same thing for me'_ but decided to ignore it. The very last thing they needed to do right now was to open another huge can of worms. Instead she just sort of patted his arm in what she hoped was a comforting gesture, but what probably just looked incredibly awkward.

'Well,' Dean said a little while later, his voice now miraculously strong and free from emotion again. 'That kind of killed the mood, huh?'

'It's ok,' Lorelai said quickly, realising that the moment of caring and sharing, as Dean so eloquently put it, was fast disappearing. 'Really.'

'What about you?' Dean asked, obviously deflecting attention away from himself and Lorelai was more than willing to take the bait . 'How are you dealing with all this?'

'Oh me?' Lorelai said breezily. 'I'm just like you. I'm fine.'

Dean raised his eyebrows. 'You are?' he said incredulously.

'Oh yeah, I mean, I've got to be, haven't I? I've got to be ok for Rory, just like you've got to be ok for Sam, right?'

Dean nodded and smiled, though he looked more than a little sad. 'Yeah,' he said slowly. 'Yeah, I guess you're right.'

'I'm Lorelai Gilmore,' she replied, her voice infused with a confidence she didn't necessarily feel, 'I'm always right. Quick question, though, does this have to stay super secret? I mean, can I tell my husband?'

'Believe me, you don't want to go shooting your mouth off about this kind of thing. You start blabbing about poltergeists and the next thing you know, you're on the closed ward with Nurse Ratched shoving meds down your throat,' Dean advised wisely.

'Graphic. But seriously, pal, take a look at where you are. You can say anything round here and by the next morning, it's front page news and everyone takes the Stars Hollow Gazette as gospel truth. Luke, however, will just tell me I'm crazy and these are hallucinations caused by too much coffee, but he says that to me at least three times a day anyway, so where's the harm?'

Dean rolled his eyes. 'This damn town, I swear to God. Look, just be careful, ok?'

'Same goes for you,' Lorelai automatically responded. 'You know, stay gold or whatever.'

Dean snorted derisively. 'Stay gold?' he repeated mockingly. 'Come on if anyone's Ponyboy around here, then it's got to be Sam.'

Lorelai smirked. 'He's got the hair for it anyway, I suppose. Now, you think we should go check on the rest of the gang, Sodapop?'

Dean frowned a little, looking deep in contemplation. 'Wasn't that Rob Lowe?'

Lorelai nodded.

Dean shrugged. 'I've been called worse.'

Lorelai laughed and allowed him to lead the way back towards the inn where, hopefully, Rory and Sam would be eagerly waiting for them and weren't still stuck in their own private reveries. This really had been a funny strange day, she thought wryly, thinking back to her conversation at the kitchen table what seemed like a million years ago. She just hoped Rory was going to be alright. Dean's words had comforted her more than she would ever admit, especially not to him, but there was always that lingering doubt where her daughter was concerned, even if said daughter was now a fully grown woman. No, she'd be fine. Rory still had a couple of days vacation left before she was due back in Washington and Lorelai fully intended to make the most of the limited time they had together these days. As for the two boys...well, Lorelai could only sigh. Somehow, she knew that those two were going to be anything but fine, especially with what Dean had had told her about his inevitable fate in just a few short weeks. She sighed again, wishing there was something she could do to help, but knowing she would just have to watch them drive away and never hear from them again. This whole thing made her strangely grateful in a way for all she had here. Yes she complained about her parents and her own upbringing often enough that any random passerby on the street could testify to the fact, but, well, it could be worse, right? And whatever the Trickster had joked about Rory leading a sheltered life, Lorelai was immensely grateful for that too, especially now she had come face to face with the horrifying alternative. She shivered, unable to suppress the automatic reaction as she even contemplated it.

'You plan on staying out here all night?' Dean called and it was a with a start that Lorelai realised he'd reached the porch by himself and she was still standing in the middle of the parking lot.

'Coming!' she yelled back, not looking back at Dean's car but instead looking forward and running, probably looking the very opposite of grace and poise, but when had that ever stopped Lorelai before? Back to the Dragonfly, back to Rory, back to where everything was right and normal and made sense - here's hoping.

**A/N: I had originally intended to include the inevitable heart to heart between Sam and Rory in this chapter, but then decided to split it as this was already looking on the long side, but it's coming, I promise. (Was this also an excuse to delay the inevitable ending of this story? Maybe, yes, I admit I will be very sad when it ends) I always wanted Lorelai and Dean to have a proper chat right from the start and I apologise if anyone finds it out of character for Dean. In my defence, however, I recently re-watched Season 3 as this is when this story is set and revisited one of my favourite quotes (in Dream a Little Dream of Me); 'My father was an obsessed bastard! All that crap he dumped on me about protecting Sam, that was his crap! He's the one who couldn't protect his family! He's the one who let Mom die, who wasn't there for Sam! I always was! It wasn't fair! I didn't deserve what he put on me! And I don't deserve to go to Hell!' This is very much the mindset poor Dean is in here too, just a couple of weeks on when he's had time to think and, hey, all that bottled up angst has to go somewhere, right? (Also, I cannot tell a lie, I love me some angsty and emotional Dean, I have a problem). As always, any and all reviews, follows and favourites are very gladly appreciated, **


	13. Chapter 13

'Sammy, keep an eye on Rory, ok?' Dean's words seemed to come out of nowhere and startled Sam out of the daydream he'd fallen into.

Sam nodded and noticed that Dean didn't look at all happy about the situation but continued to eye him warily as he and Lorelai left the room, leaving him alone with Rory. Convenient. Very convenient. Sam looked at Rory for the first time since waking up from the dream, memory or whatever the Trickster had sent him on. He felt a little awkward being with Rory now, in all honesty. How could he not? Sam had basically just eavesdropped on a personal memory she had with her first boyfriend and it was hard not to feel like some kind of Peeping Tom. He tried to reason with himself that all those vivid dreams he'd had were exactly the same thing but back then, it had been like he _was_ Dean Forrester. This time, he'd just been watching, observing and he felt horribly awkward like he'd completely intruded her private life, without her knowing. Which, you know, he totally had.

Sam glanced sideways at Rory and noticed that she was staring straight ahead, her eyes wide and her lip trembling like she was on the verge of tears. Sam frowned.

'Hey, are you ok?' he asked softly.

Rory jumped like she'd just been scalded. 'What?' she blurted out. 'I - what?'

Knowing the feeling of being abruptly jolted from a reverie all too well, Sam smiled in sympathy. 'I was just asking if you were ok,' he said gently.

'Oh.' Rory made no further reply and Sam frowned again as a new, and suddenly horrific thought, occurred to him.

'Did you...' he began but he soon trailed off. Taking a deep breath, he fortified himself to try again. 'When the Trickster was here and I was, uh, out, did, um, anything happen? I mean, to you? Did you see anything?' Sam spoke tentatively, very well aware that he was tripping over all his words.

'Did you?' she asked quietly.

'Hey, I asked you first,' Sam responded quickly, hoping it would make her laugh or smile at the very least.

It didn't work. 'I saw something,' she said slowly. 'I don't know...it was like a dream or a memory or something, but it wasn't mine, I was just watching and I couldn't do anything or say anything or help. But you were there and Dean -' She abruptly broke off, giving a shaky smile that didn't quite meet her eyes. 'Sorry, I don't mean to act out the ending of _The Wizard of Oz_.'

'There's no place like home,' Sam quipped, doing his best to reassure her, even though he was anxious and a little afraid to find out what she'd seen. He was beginning to think she'd seen one of his memories and given his rather depressing repertoire, it couldn't have been anything good. 'What was it?' he prompted, definitely not wanting to push her and seem too impatient when in reality he was desperate to know. How on earth was he supposed to help her or at least properly understand if he didn't know exactly what they were dealing with? Ok, he had a fairly good idea what he was up against but specifics were always helpful.

When Rory spoke however, her voice was quiet and distant and she still hadn't looked in his direction. It was like she was speaking, but not to him, like she was simply voicing aloud her thoughts. 'You know, when you talked about your girlfriend, I didn't really give much thought about what happened to her.'

Sam's heart felt like it had just dropped, painfully, into his stomach. He suddenly had a horrible idea where this was going. He wanted to tell Rory to stop, that it was ok, neither of them needed to hear her talking about the night Jess died, if that's indeed where this was headed. He tried to rationalise this out; the Trickster wouldn't have such a twisted sense of humour to show her that, would he? Unbidden, the memory of Dean dying over and over again in hundreds of horrific ways came into his head and he realised grimly that there was probably nothing the Trickster wouldn't do. That bastard. Somehow he'd managed to skip out on Dean before Sam had returned to the land of the living but the next time they came face to face, Sam fiercely promised himself, he wouldn't be getting off so lightly.

'It's ok -' he began to say but Rory was speaking again, giving no indication that she'd heard him at all and he fell silent. Who was he to stop someone bottling up all their feelings? After all, he seemed to spend most of his time these days trying to encourage Dean to open up about what he was really feeling and what was really going on in that closely guarded head of his.

'I thought maybe she'd been sick,' Rory was continuing in that same distant tone. 'Maybe she was sick or there had been an accident, you know, like a car accident or something. Then when the, uh, the Trickster showed up, I started wondering if maybe she'd been in on all this stuff or she worked with you guys or something and a job had gone wrong. Then, well, I saw the whole thing.'

'I'm sorry,' Sam said sincerely. 'Really. I am. You shouldn't have had to see that.'

For the first time, Rory turned to look at him. 'You don't need to apologise,' she said quietly and Sam was surprised to see the hint of a smile on her face. How real it was, however, he couldn't say. 'It wasn't your fault. You didn't make me see that, did you?'

'No,' Sam said hastily. 'No, of course not.'

'I didn't think so,' Rory responded but the smile quickly slid from her face. 'I should be saying sorry to you. That was, that was just...' She trailed off, her eyes suddenly brimming over with tears.

'It's ok,' Sam said again and before he'd even made the conscious decision to do so, he had extended an arm around her and gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. He felt his face blazing with embarrassment but Rory didn't pull away or put up any kind of resistance so he stayed where it was. 'It's ok,' he repeated again, at a total loss for something better to say. 'You were just watching, right? It wasn't real.'

'It was for you,' Rory pointed out, sniffing loudly. 'That _was_ real, right? That was a real memory for you and Dean and, um, Jessica.'

Sam thought about lying, fabricating some story about how the Trickster had just made the whole thing up and actually he himself had been lying earlier and in fact Jessica was alive and well and was currently finishing up grad school. The thought was gone as quickly as it had come. Rory had been unwillingly dragged along on this whole messed up adventure; the very least he could do was tell her the truth? After all, what was one more nightmare?

'Yeah,' he said quietly. 'Yeah, it was.'

'How...' Rory began to speak but abruptly cut herself off. 'Sorry, I shouldn't ask. You don't need me dragging all this up for you.'

'How did it happen?' Sam asked, assuming that to be Rory's natural train of thought.

She nodded, albeit reluctantly. 'You don't have to -' she started but Sam cut her off.

'It's fine,' he lied. 'Well, no, it's not but...' he trailed off, sighing heavily as he roughly raked a hand through his hair. It had been such a long time since he'd properly talked about Jess, not counting earlier of course, such a long time since he'd reflected on her; on her death and more importantly on her life. That wasn't to say he'd forgotten her, not at all. In the days and weeks and months following the fire, she was all he could think about. He'd wake up at crazy hours every night yelling her name, imagining the ceiling to be bursting into flame over and over again. She was all he thought about in his waking moments too. His head had been filled with the never ending mantra of finding Dad, finding Jessica's killer and putting an end to it, finally. Then, of course, they did find Dad just before losing him for good and they did find Jess' killer and they did put a stop to the evil bastard once and for all. Except things hadn't gone quite to plan, as Sam was only too painfully aware, and in the devastating fallout, Jess had managed to slip from the forefront of his mind. Sam wondered if the long awaited death of Yellow Eyes had brought about the closure he'd always hoped it would, but ultimately decided that it hadn't. Not if the sudden sharp pain in his chest as he thought about Jess was any sort of indication.

'It was a demon,' he said finally once he' composed himself enough to be able to speak. 'Did we mention those are real already? Well, this particular demon, it, uh, it killed our Mom back when we and Dean were little. Then, well, it came after Jess too.' Feeling a sting in his eyes, Sam decided it was best to leave it there for a while.

'I'm sorry,' Rory said quietly, though her tone was full of sincerity as she edged a little closer to Sam. 'You're lucky to have Dean,' she added, as though trying to point out the silver lining of the situation to him.

'Yeah,' Sam agreed. 'Yeah I am. You know, when we were kids, it used to piss me off that I couldn't do anything or go anywhere without him keeping an eye on me. Seriously, I couldn't sneeze without him knowing about it and running over with a Kleenex.' Sam broke off for a minute, allowing himself to smile briefly at the thought while Rory did the same. 'I don't know what I'd do without him,' he added before realisation, cold horrible realisation, dawned on him. 'What I _will_ do without him,' Sam corrected and, God help him if his emotions didn't finally choose that moment to come crashing down on him.

'Sam!' Rory's voice was filled with concern and undisguised shock, for which he couldn't exactly blame her.

'I'm ok,' he said hastily though he wasn't sure just how audible his words were given that he was properly crying; streaming eyes and gasping breaths and heaving shoulders. The whole nine yards, as Dean might say.

'You don't look ok,' Rory argued and Sam knew she had an extremely valid point but he really didn't want to go into this right now. He'd successfully kept his emotions at bay, for the most part anyway, for so long but now, he apparently just couldn't keep up the facade anymore.

'What do you mean?' she continued, her voice gentle as she asked the question Sam really didn't want to answer. 'What's going on with Dean?'

'Nothing -' Sam began but Rory, apparently, wasn't taking no for an answer and cut him off before he could go any further.

'Sam,' she said sternly, sounding so much like how he remembered her grandmother from his dream that she started a little. 'Come on, I think we've reached that point. I've just relived your worst memory, you've spilled most of your autobiography and you've been dreaming about Rory and Dean: The Early Years. No more secrets, ok?'

'Ok,' Sam said, agreeing before his brain had a chance to process what exactly he was agreeing to.

'Well?' Rory raised her eyebrows and stared at him expectantly, clearly waiting for him to elaborate.

Sam sighed. 'It's a long story,' he said finally.

'Isn't it always?' Rory shrugged.

'You probably won' believe it,' Sam argued.

Rory actually gave a little laugh. 'Seriously?' she said, a little teasingly, clearing attempting to lighten the mood. 'After everything you already told me tonight and everything I saw for myself, you really believe I can't take whatever you're going to throw at me next?'

'Fair enough,' Sam said reasonably but he couldn't help but sigh again. He really didn't want to have to tell Rory all the gory details. Hell, he didn't want to say it aloud at all, somehow actually speaking the awful truth out loud would make it all too painfully real. However, it didn't look like he had much of a choice. Something told him that Rory wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily.

'Ok,' he said slowly. 'Ok. Well, uh, a few months ago, well nearly a year ago now I suppose, there was this accident, or a fight or whatever between me and this other guy. Um, it didn't go so well, not for me at least.'

Rory looked more than a little confused, which was no wonder given the extremely unclear picture Sam was currently painting, but she made no comment. Sam, reluctantly, took that as his cue to continue with his incoherent explanation.

'Like I said, it didn't go too well and I, uh, I got killed,' Sam added the last, and arguably critical, part in a barely audible mumble, not too keen to relieve the experience.

Rory, it seemed, had not trouble hearing if her suddenly aghast expression was anything to go by. 'You what?' she said loudly, watching him extremely warily as though she was expecting him to drop dead at any second.

'Got killed,' Sam repeated hastily. 'But I'm not dead now, obviously, I mean I'm still alive now, of course, I'm not like a zombie or anything like that,' he added tying, and failing, to sound reassuring. 'Sorry,' he added. 'I didn't mean to freak you out.'

'I think we passed the moment of freaking out when I first met you this afternoon,' Rory said wryly. 'No offence.'

'None taken.'

There was silence for a moment or two and Sam could tell that Rory was deep in thought, trying to process this latest bombshell he'd just dropped on her.

'Killed, huh?' she said quietly.

Sam nodded.

'But you're ok now?'

Sam nodded again, not feeling like he was being totally truthful now. Sure he was alive, the supposedly fatal stab wound was now healed up like he had never been hurt at all, and he was apparently as good as new. On the outside, he was perfectly fine and totally firing on all cylinders. It was only on the inside that things had gone south.

Rory frowned a little and Sam could practically hear the cogs turning in her head as she tried to work out what was going on. Clearly she wasn't going to arrive at the right conclusion by herself - how could she? - so he would have to step on. Unfortunately for him.

'So I was, you know -'

'Dead,' Rory supplied.

'Yeah. I was dead and Dean, well...' Sam trailed off. Obviously he hadn't been around at the time, being dead meant he was otherwise indisposed, but from what he'd been able to gleam from the situation later, Dean hadn't taken what had gone down at Cold Oak well at all. Clearly that was the case otherwise Sam would be six feet under right now and Dean would have successfully moved on with his life. He didn't even want to imagine what Dean had been like in those hours or days before he'd gone off to make that stupid deal. He didn't even need to imagine what that was like because, let's face it, in all likelihood Sam was going to be having a similar time himself in just a few short weeks.

'He was upset?' Rory suggested.

'Yeah,' Sam said with a hollow sort of chuckle. 'Yeah, that's kind of an understatement.'

'What happened?' she asked quietly, a little more insistently now.

'He made a deal,' Sam said shortly and the tears were gone from his eyes now as another, equally powerful, emotion was surging up inside him. Anger, pure, unadulterated anger that had been busily bubbling under the surface for weeks now. 'He went out and made a goddamn deal with a crossroads demon to bring me back, never mind that he just went and bargained away his own life because he's a freakin' idiot who didn't give a second thought about what he was doing!' Sam broke off, breathing heavily, and beside him, Rory was watching him more warily than ever. 'Sorry,' he added quietly, aware he might have finally crossed the line.

'And that worked?' Rory asked doubtfully. 'I mean, clearly it did but how? That really worked?'

'I suppose so.'

'And Dean's going to die?' she asked, her voice even quieter now.

'In a couple of weeks,' Sam said brusquely because that was the only way he could keep those pesky tears from making their presence known again. 'In a couple of weeks, the stupid jerk is going to die and he's got a fast pass straight to hell because he couldn't leave well enough alone. The stupid jerk,' he said again, roughly dragging the back of his hand across his suddenly streaming eyes. 'The stupid, stupid jerk.'

If Rory was shocked and freaked out by this latest admission and really she had every reason to be, then she didn't mention it. Instead her voice was firm and resolved. 'He didn't want you to die,' she said quietly, her hand on his elbow in what he guessed was meant to be a steadying and comforting gesture. 'His heart was in the right place, wasn't it? I mean, you just said he's always looked out for you. He just didn't want you to die.'

'And I don't want him to die!' Sam burst out, startling both of them. 'I get that he couldn't cop, really I get it, but now I have to watch him die. He knows exactly when it's coming and I know exactly when it's coming, and I'm going to have to watch him get torn to shreds by hellhounds and then know for the rest of my miserable freakin' life that my brother died for me and he's going to spend the rest of eternity getting tortured in hell. And he did that, all of that, for me. How the hell am I supposed to live with that?'

'I don't know,' Rory said simply, and despite his own current angst and anguish issues, he had to admire her frank honesty. 'I really don't. I don't know what I'm supposed to say for the best.'

Sam took a moment to compose himself, not wanting to burst into over emotional tears again or yell at a thoroughly undeserving Rory. 'I know,' he managed to choke out past the painful lump in his throat. 'There's nothing you can say. I never meant to unload all that crap on you. Never mind, forget I said anything.'

Rory raised her eyebrows. 'Unless you really are part of the _Men in Black_ after all and you have one of those memory wiping things, then I won't be forgetting this anytime soon, believe me.'

Sam attempted a smile. 'I guess that was a stupid thing to say, huh?'

Rory returned a smile. 'It wasn't the smartest thing you've said tonight, even including all that stuff about ghosts being real.'

'I guess you're right,' Sam sighed, for what felt like the millionth time that night. 'I really didn't mean to go all crazy on you, though.'

'Have you met my mother?' Rory joked. 'I deal with crazy freak outs on a daily basis. Sometimes twice daily if she hasn't had her morning coffee and Pop Tarts.'

'Seriously, though,' Sam said solemnly. 'You've been through enough tonight without me adding to it anymore than I already have. I'm sorry.'

Rory rolled her eyes. 'I already told you to quit apologising. This whole thing wasn't your fault and what's going on with Dean isn't your fault either.'

'Thanks,' Sam said quietly.

'You don't believe me, do you?' Rory sighed.

In his head, Sam was constructing the argument about how, of course he totally believed Rory a hundred percent and no of course this thing didn't come back on him in the slightest and yes he was totally and completely ready to move on with his life. What came out of his mouth, however, was totally different and totally not what he was going for at all. 'What am I supposed to do next?' he asked quietly, silently wondering where exactly that had come from and waiting, a little anxiously, to see how Rory would respond.

Rory hesitated for a second or two before answering. 'You could go back to Stanford?' she suggested.

'I don't think so,' Sam replied at once and he could tell that Rory was taken aback by both the speediness and the nature of his response.

'Sam, I saw your memory,' she said quietly, a curiously pleading tone to her voice he couldn't help but note. 'I saw you at school. You obviously loved it. You said you did pre law, right? You could go to law school maybe?'

Sam shook his head. 'That's not my life,' he said firmly. 'That's not me, not anymore.'

Rory looked a little sad, no, _disappointed_, but she didn't argue the point, something for which Sam was immensely grateful. 'Ok then,' she said finally.

'Ok then,' Sam repeated, not sure what else to say but not wanting to start an awkward silence either.

Rory frowned, looking extremely deep in thought. 'You could keep with the Ghostbusting?' she suggested. 'You know, if that's what you really wanted, I mean.'

Sam didn't know how best to answer that for Rory's sake, or for his own if truth be told. Was that what he wanted? For so long, for as long as Sam could remember, the answer had been a resounding and categorical no. But if he _was_ hunting, then maybe he'd be able to find something, or someone, to get Dean out of his deal, even after the fact. That being said, Sam didn't knew if he wanted to, or even if he could, hunt without Dean watching his back. But Sam realised that really he didn't have a life outside of the job anymore. Maybe he'd never had one. His stint at Stanford had been a break, a brief respite; nothing more. Sam felt like he'd been having the same argument with himself all day and the only conclusion he'd reached was that he had no definite conclusion. Hunting or not? Searching forever for the impossible, potentially nonexistent solution or living his own life, one that didn't even exist anymore?

'Sam?'

Sam was so wrapped up in his own vicious cycle of unanswerable thoughts and questions that he almost forgot Rory was in the room with him, much less that he was actually supposed to be comforting her, not the other way around.

'Sorry,' he said hastily. 'I'm meant to be making sure that you're ok. We see this sort of crap every day.'

'What did you see?' Rory asked, suddenly genuinely curious. 'I mean, I had to watch your worst memory, what did you see? I don't know, like me getting a D on a pop quiz or something?'

'Or breaking up in the middle of a twenty four hour dance marathon with the whole town watching,' Sam suggested absently.

Rory gave a totally incredulous expression.

'Too soon?' Sam said. 'Sorry.'

'Not one of my finest moments,' Rory agreed. 'You didn't really see that, did you?'

'No, of course not,' Sam said quickly. 'I mean, I did see it, you know, when I was having those dreams, sorry about that, by the way. It's never really a good thing to get dumped but in front of practically everyone you know -'

'I'm glad it's not just me who gets foot in mouth disease,' Rory commented wryly. 'You could give me a run for my money, pal.'

'I would apologise again but I think the word's kind of lost all meaning by now,' Sam smiled.

'What did you see?' Rory asked again. 'You've got me on the edge of my seat here. I need a few spoilers for Rory Gilmore: This is Your Life.'

'It wasn't even that important,' Sam explained. 'I mean, it wasn't like a special occasion or anything. You and I, no, it wasn't me, obviously not, it was Dean, your Dean obviously, not _my_ Dean, my brother I mean. Obviously my brother wasn't there and neither was I, of course -'

Rory's somewhat nervous laughter put a welcome stop to his ramblings. 'I know what you mean,' she smiled. 'Obviously,' she added teasingly.

Sam could feel his face blazing again and silently wondered just how many more times he was going to make an idiot of himself in front of Rory. 'You were just watching a movie,' he said rapidly in a desperate attempt to distract from his blatantly obvious embarrassment.

Rory smile a little, her eyes faraway, obviously lost in the memory. 'I bet it was _Pippi Longstocking._'

In spite of his intense embarrassment, Rory's smile was contagious and who was Sam to fight against that? 'Yeah,' he grinned. 'Yeah, it was.'

Rory laughed. 'I'd have guessed even if you hadn't woken up singing the theme tune.'

Sam's embarrassment levels reached a new high, one not even his extremely awkward pubescent self could ever have achieved. 'Oh God, really?' he groaned.

'Afraid so. I can't blame you though, there's no-one like her,' Rory teased.

'She can lift a horse, you know.'

'Poor Dean,' Rory sighed. 'I must have made him watch _Pippi_ at least a dozen times. I don't know how he put up with it, with any of it.'

'He loved you,' Sam sad quickly like it was the most obvious answer in the world, and maybe it was. He'd inhabited enough of Dean Forrester's head space to know that was definitely the case. Obviously he couldn't exactly speak for Dean right now but he had indeed loved Rory then, that much Sam knew for certain.

'Yes,' Rory said slowly and thoughtfully. 'Yes, he did.' She broke off, sighing heavily. 'He was a good guy, you know,' she added quietly. 'I know some of the stuff you might have seen, and what the people in this town have probably told you...but he was a good guy. Really.'

Sam found himself nodding. 'I know,' he agreed. 'He was just a kid.'

'He was.'

'You both were,' Sam pointed out.

'I'm pretty sure you're the same age,' Rory said reasonably.

'You got me there,' Sam smiled.

'He was a good guy,' Rory said again. 'We, uh, we just couldn't...we could never quite work it out. And I knew that, or at least, I should have done, but my mom used to tell me that once your heart gets involved, it all comes out in moron.'

'That sounds about right.'

'I still think about him,' Rory said contemplatively and Sam wasn't sure if she was still speaking to him or whether she was just voicing her thoughts aloud again. 'Not every day,' she hastily clarified. 'I haven't got some kind of Heathcliff level pining going on or anything like that. I just, every now and then, he comes into my mind and I wonder what he's up to these days and if he's doing ok.'

'I'm sure he's fine,' Sam said automatically even though, privately, he'd been having similar thoughts himself. His earlier research hadn't advanced beyond the engagement announcement in the Stars Hollow Gazette and his dream had cut off at Dean's rash decision to move back to Chicago. After that he had nothing. What had Dean done after the failed marriage when the whole town had turned against him? Sam grimaced as he remembered how that felt. Where had Dean gone from there? Did he fall in with his old friends in Chicago, find a decent job, gone back to school like he always intended?

'He went back to Chicago,' Rory continued in that same almost dreamy voice. 'I mean, that's what I heard anyway. He just up and left one day. I mean, I was at Yale so I wasn't there but nobody knew anything about it. He just left his job at the market, well his _jobs_ I should say, he was working at least three jobs to cover all the divorce costs...oh God.' She stopped abruptly, her voice heavy and filled with guilt. Sam knew it well. 'He had this plan. He was so proud of this five year plan he had all worked out. He was going to go to school part time and save up for a townhouse and...' she trailed off, offering Sam a wry and wholly unexpected smile. 'I'm not sure why I'm telling you all this,' she added.

'Must be my honest face,' Sam joked.

'Well, yes, but I'm assuming you already know all this, right?'

'Right,' Sam admitted.

'So you already know how I stepped in and messed up his nice little five year plan, huh?' Rory was speaking in a strangely flat, resigned tone that Sam didn't like the sound of at all.

'Hey,' he said quickly, feeling a little weird as he attempted to defend Rory to herself. 'I know Dean was a nice guy and all but come on, he wasn't exactly blameless in that whole thing. It takes two to, you know...' Sam trailed off, awkwardly gesturing to get his meaning across.

'Have sex and break up a marriage?' Rory suggested in an overly bright tone.

Sam shrugged. 'I was going to say tango but you get the idea.'

'You don't have to sugar coat it, Sam, I'm a big girl.'

'I'm just saying, I know it was a mistake but it was his mistake too,' Sam protested. 'And I knew it was terrible and tragic and stuff but it probably worked out best for you both in the end. I mean, look at you, you've got this amazing job in DC reporting -'

'For an online magazine,' Rory interjected.

'Still a magazine,' Sam argued. 'Still a reporting job. Hey, even Christiane Amanpour had to start somewhere, right?'

'Thanks,' Rory smiled, an actual genuine smile and Sam's spirit lifted a little as she finally seemed to be coming round to her old self.

'Any time.'

'You really think he's doing ok?' Rory asked after a moment. 'Dean, I mean. I meant to phone him so many times, I really did, or write even. I just never knew what to say.'

'I get it,' Sam nodded. 'But I honestly think getting away from this place might have been the best thing for him, you know? A fresh start, a new beginning, somewhere he could just start over.'

'This kind of place isn't for everyone,' Rory agreed. 'Small owns, everyone knowing everyone else, it can get to you. And besides, I've heard that the windy city is mighty pretty.'

'That's been said.'

Neither of them spoke for a moment or two ad when Rory finally did, Sam was surprised at what she said.

'Do you like this kind of place?' she asked casually. 'I thought Dean did, but then he left, what about you? I know you went to college in California, but what about here?'

Sam frowned a little. 'I don't know,' he said at last. 'I know I went to school in Palo Alto, but we're from Kansas originally, me and Dean, but when we were growing up, we never stayed in one place longer than a couple of weeks. Dean always likes big cities because there's more going on, more bars, more people, less chance of anyone recognising us.'

'Sounds lonely,' Rory commented, watching him with some concern and what looked like a little pity.

'Sometime,' Sam shrugged. 'I suppose we're used to it by now.'

Rory regarded him in silence.

'I always liked small towns though,' Sam added. 'When we were little, I mean. I don't know, I liked when people wanted to get to know us or at least were friendly. Now, of course, the less people know about us, the better. We were both on the FBI's most wanted list a couple of weeks ago. Technically, I think we still are.'

'But we know about you,' Rory pointed out.

'Yeah,' Sam agreed. 'I suppose you do.'

'You know,' Rory said in what was clearly supposed to be a very offhand tone of voice, 'when it's all...over and if you're out there, feeling lonely or whatever and you want someone to talk to...' She trailed off, shrugging as a faint blush began to tinge her cheeks. 'I don't know,' she said quickly, 'but you know where we are, where _I_ am, you know...'

'You'll be in DC,' Sam clarified, 'writing for your online magazine.'

Rory glanced sideways at him. 'You aren't going to come back here or to DC, are you?' she asked sadly.

'I don't know,' he replied quickly, much too quickly if Rory's sudden narrowed eyes were anything to go by.

She opened her mouth to reply and Sam had no doubt he was about to be treated to a severe reprimand, when the unmistakeable sounds of Dean and Lorelai conversing floated in from outside.

'Don't think you're off the hook,' she hissed out of the corner of her mouth.

Sam nodded, but didn't say anything, as Dean and Lorelai once again entered the kitchen.

Sam knew Dean was concerned about him - when wasn't Dean worried about him? - so he hastily rearranged his features into what was probably a thoroughly fake looking smile. Dean frowned, obviously not convinced in the slightest, and Sam braced himself, knowing that later, when Stars Hollow was firmly in the rear view mirror, Dean would be interrogating him all about this whole thing. God forbid Dean should ever think of returning the favour though.

'Well,' Dean said at last, breaking the rather awkward silence the four of them had lapsed into, 'that's that. All's well that ends well, right?'

Nobody, it seemed, had the heart to tell him otherwise.

**A/N: Apologies for the delay in updating but university life is hectic (although I guess Rory and Sam would be proud!). Here we are, and now the end is near. I'm thinking of maybe one or two more chapters to end things off nicely (and after that 'Baby' episode of SPN I'm ready for lots of brotherly moments before the story ends, and of course we've heard the news that Gilmore Girls is getting a Netflix revival...yay!). As always, let me know what you think and how you think the story might end; any and all reviews, follows and favourites are very gladly appreciated. **


	14. Chapter 14

'You ready to get out of here?' Dean said, sliding into the Impala's driver seat and putting the keys into the ignition.

The car started up with its usual comforting rumble and Dean, for one, was more than ready to get back on the road. He glanced sideways to see that while Sam had packed up the trunk with his nerdy rucksack and he'd opened the passenger door, he had yet to actually get in the car. Dean sighed. He knew leaving Stars Hollow wasn't going to be as easy and painless as he wanted it to be. Dean had more than made his peace with the place. He'd downed an Advil or four to ward off the painful side effects of the potential concussion, tidied up the mess they'd made in the Dragonfly as best they could - Lorelai volunteered her husband to fix the holes in the drywall whenever he got back in town - and said his less than emotional goodbyes. He'd got the feeling he'd more than over shared, and not just in the whole 'ghosts are real' thing but also when he was alone outside with Lorelai. Dean cringed a little. Definitely not one of his prouder moments. He hadn't meant to crack like that, she certainly didn't expect or deserve that chick flick moment, and it was just one of the reasons he couldn't wait to put this town in his rear view mirror.

Sam, though, well that was a different matter. Sam had been so anxious to come here the day before - _was it really only yesterday? - _but it didn't seem as though he had similar thoughts about leaving. Dean knew this whole experience had done a spectacular number on Sammy's head, hell, Dean wasn't coming out completely unscathed either, but he really wasn't sure what was going on with his brother. When Dean and Lorelai had come back into the kitchen, Sam and Rory had suddenly sprang apart, casting slightly guilty looks towards the door. Dean had smirked initially but really he didn't think anything had been going on between them, no matter how furiously Sam blushed whenever he was in the girl's vicinity. Even still, Sam didn't seem all that keen to leave, not if the glances he kept throwing back at the inn were anything to go by.

'Sam?' Dean prompted when his brother still hadn't made any advances to get in the car. 'Sammy, are you ready?'

'Yeah,' Sam murmured distractedly.

'Sam?'

'Yeah?' Sam said again, still looking firmly at the inn and not even remotely in Dean's direction.

'You want to actually get in the car?' Dean asked. 'I know the Impala's good and all but even she can't do her best with the door open and you hanging off the side.'

'Oh, right. Yeah.' Sam gave himself a shake and finally folded himself into the passenger seat beside Dean, closing the door behind him with its familiar loud creak.

Dean frowned a little. 'You alright?' he asked concernedly as Sam continued to stare straight ahead through the windshield, looking at where Rory and Lorelai were standing on the inn's front porch watching them go.

'I'm fine,' Sam answered, much too quickly to be convincing.

'Sure, 'cause you seem just peachy,' Dean commented.

Sam sighed heavily. 'Just drive, would you, Dean?'

'If that's what you want,' Dean shrugged.

'Well, it is,' Sam retorted irritably.

Dean raised his eyebrows. 'Touchy subject, jeez. You know, if you really wanted, we could stick around for a while. I mean, we haven't got any jobs lined up for a day or two...' he trailed off, leaving it open for Sam to say something.

He didn't, choosing instead to continue staring straight ahead so Dean decided to try a different tact.

'Sam, go say goodbye to that girl properly, would you?' he said drily. 'Your face is depressing the hell out of me.'

Sam frowned. 'Gee thanks, Dean,' he said flatly.

'Is this some kind of Sarah Blake situation?' Dean asked idly. 'You say you're fine and I go to drive off and then you jump out of the car and go running off and I have to sit here and watch you making out with her?'

'You're a creep, you know that?'

'I'm serious, Sam.'

'And so am I, Dean.'

'Whatever you say, Sammy,' Dean shrugged.

'It's _Sam_,' Sam shot back at once in such a spot on impression of his brooding teenaged self that Dean couldn't help but laugh.

'I haven't heard that one in a while,' Dean commented wryly. 'I was starting to think you wanted to change your name to Sammy permanently.'

'Bite me, Dean,' Sam retorted.

'Would you prefer _Samuel_?' Dean continued. 'I mean, Dad only ever busted that one out when he was seriously pissed off at you, but if that's what you want...' Dean trailed off, realising that Sam wasn't even pretending to pay attention but was instead entirely focused on the figures standing on the porch. Dean rolled his eyes. 'Sam,' he said gently. 'Go and say a proper goodbye to her, alright? You're killing me here, and I'm supposed to have another month or two left before that happens.'

'A proper goodbye?' Sam repeated, still not taking his eyes off Rory's distant figure. 'Sorry, Dean, I didn't realise this was one of those chick flick moments you're so fond off.'

Dean elected to ignore that particular jibe, for the moment anyway. He'd put Sam to rights later when he'd snapped out of this funk or whatever he'd currently slipped into. 'Sam, it's clear she's got a thing for you for whatever reason, you telling me you're just going to leave her high and dry?'

'What age are you, twelve?' Sam muttered.

'So you just want me to drive off, is that it?' Dean asked.

'That's normally how we leave, yes,' Sam replied drily.

'And we're just going to leave Rory standing there?'

'Unless you want her to tag along on the demon hunting trip,' Sam continued.

Dean rolled his eyes. Sam deliberately pretending not to get the point tested his last nerve and the little punk knew it only too well. 'Whatever you say,' he muttered.

They were about to pull out of the parking lot once and for all when Sam, who'd been slouched down in his seat like the moody teenager he obviously was, suddenly sat up straight with a start. 'Wait,' he said hastily, scrambling for the door handle and wrenching it open, apparently not caring that the car was actually in motion.

'You forget something, Sammy?' Dean asked innocently, watching in amusement.

'I'll be right back,' Sam muttered almost incoherently, not even looking back as he made his extremely ungainly exit from the car and back towards the inn.

'What did I tell you?' Dean called out his open window, watching with a smirk. His brother was usually good at putting those freakishly long legs of his to good use, but right now he was practically tripping over his own feet in his anxious haste. Dean smirked again. He wasn't surprised in the slightest; he knew exactly how this whole thing would play out. 'What don't I know about you, kid?' he added quietly to himself. From across the empty parking lot, he caught Lorelai's eye in the rear view mirror for a brief second before smiling and turning away. He decided he'd give Sam a moment or two of privacy; he was in no hurry after all.

Dean felt around in the glove box for his trusted cardboard box of tapes and after a second's deliberation, he selected his favourite and turned up the volume. Leaning back in his seat, he closed his eyes and tried hard to concentrate on the dulcet tones of ACDC and not on the increasingly worried thoughts that were currently bouncing around inside his head. More than he would ever care to admit , the Trickster had given him a lot to think about, not to mention Sam himself. Just what exactly _was_ Sammy going to do when this was all over? The kid had been focused all his energies on finding Dean a way out of his deal and Dean was sure he hadn't given a second thought about what was going to happen after. As far as Sam was concerned, there wasn't going to be an after because Dean wasn't going to die.

Dean sighed. It wasn't like him to be the more logical of the two of them but desperate times called for desperate measures and someone had to be realistic about this whole thing. Dean was going to Hell in a few weeks and that was it. End of story. He didn't like it and her certainly didn't have to like it but he knew how things were going to end up. And where did that leave Sam? If Dean had his way, when his time was running up, he'd take himself out of the way so the hellhounds could do their work and Sam wouldn't have to bear witness. After that, well, Sam was free to do whatever he wanted, wasn't he? Dean couldn't help but frown as he remembered what he'd been like in the moments directly following what had gone down at Cold Oak. A lot of the specific details had been blurred but the one thing that punctured that haze of grief was the unbearable pain. The incomprehension. The anger. The confusion. The heartbreak. The feeling of total and utter helplessness. The devastating loneliness.

The thought of Sammy going through anything remotely similar was unsettling to say the least.

But he _was_ going to go through all of that and just whose fault was that exactly? That's what it all kept coming back to. This was Dean's thing, Dean's mess and Sam was going to be the one left behind to clean it up by himself. Granted, it wasn't like Dean was going off for a cruise around the Caribbean but even still, Sam was going to need people, or even just one person, when this was all over and done with, when he had no Dean or even Dad to depend on. Dean was sure that Bobby and Ellen and Jo, wherever she was these days, would be more than willing to step up to the plate. But the thing was, they were hunters, or at least involved in the life. Maybe what Sammy really needed wasn't Bobby's house or the Harvelles' Roadhouse or an endless string of dingy motels. Somewhere that was quiet and peaceful where the things that went bump in the night would never show their ugly faces.

Whether or not Stars Hollow was that imaginary place Dean couldn't say for certain. All he knew was that Sam could fit in here just fine if he wanted to and a certain Rory Gilmore wouldn't be too upset at the prospect either. Whether Sam would listen to reason, however, was a whole different matter, Dean thought, a little sadly. His brother did have a habit of shirking what everyone else thought was best for him and striking out on his own. Well, not this time, Dean thought with a sudden ferocity. This time he was going to give the kid a piece of advice and he was damn well going to follow it.

The sound of the passenger door opening again alerted Dean to the fact that he was still sitting in the stationary car in the middle of a parking lot and he quickly sat up, readjusting his features into his trademark game face.

'That was quick,' he commented hastily as Sam climbed into his usual shotgun seat.

Sam shrugged, clearly attempting to look casual but Dean noticed that he was smiling even as he bowed his head and deliberately didn't meet Dean's eyes.

'Sammy, you sly dog!' Dean grinned.

'Shut up, Dean,' Sam fired back at once but he was still smiling and Dean couldn't take him seriously.

'We could stick around for a bit if you wanted,' Dean posed the question again, almost certain he'd be getting a different answer this time.

'It's fine,' Sam said quietly. 'Just drive.'

Dean frowned. 'I never pegged you as the love 'em and leave 'em type, Sam. Guess I must be rubbing off on you, huh?'

Sam shrugged. 'Whatever.'

'You sure you're sure?' Dean couldn't help but ask.

Sam raised his eyebrows, fixing Dean with one of those incredulous expressions he was so fond of. 'Do we have to go through this again?'

'You changed your mind last time, didn't you?' Dean pointed out.

Sam narrowed his eyes but didn't reply.

Dean shrugged. 'Alright,' he said quietly, starting up the ignition once again. 'So is this it then?'

'Seriously, Dean, you sound like a broken record, or one of your crappy cassette's that's finally given up the ghost.'

'Woah, dude, that's totally uncalled for,' Dean said defensively, only partially joking.

'Sorry. But really, Dean, Lorelai's going to charge us for that room after all if we don't shag ass soon.'

In all honesty, Dean was a little surprised that Sam hadn't changed his tune but who was he not to give the kid what he wanted? He finally took the car out of park and drove out onto the road. He noticed that Sam didn't look back even once. As though in compensation, Dean looked in the rear view mirror to see Lorelai and Rory still standing on the porch, waving furiously at the departing car. He gave a sharp blast on the horn just as they drove away and the Dragonfly, and the Gilmores, disappeared from view.

'Strange day, huh?' Dean said brightly.

'You're telling me,' Sam agreed. 'So where are we headed?'

Dean shrugged. 'Not sure, but where we're going, we don't need roads.'

'Whatever you say, Doc. Any specific destination in mind? Besides the future, I mean.'

'I was going to call Bobby, see if he had anything he wanted us to chase up.'

'Good idea.'

They travelled in silence for a few minutes and Dean wondered exactly how he was supposed to broach the subject without Sam biting his head off. He decided that a direct approach was needed when a guy walking by the side of the road completely threw him off his train of thought.

'What the hell is that dude doing?' he asked, watching the man slouching about, singing and strumming a guitar even though nobody else, besides Dean, was paying him the slightest bit of attention.

Sam looked where Dean was pointing and laughed. 'Oh, that's just the town troubadour,' he explained as though that was supposed to make any sense.

'The trouba - what?' Dean frowned.

'Troubadour,' Sam sounded out.

'Yeah, that's not really helping me any.'

'Sorry. He just, uh, he goes about town and plays his guitar. That's it really.'

'Who the hell is he?'

Sam shrugged. 'Nobody really knows.'

Dean rolled his eyes. 'I swear, man, this town is nine kinds of crazy.'

Sam hesitated a moment before answering. 'I don't know,' he said finally, sounding quiet and contemplative. 'It's not so bad.'

Dean glanced sideways at him. 'It's not?' he repeated airily, deciding this has to be his way forward.

'I don't know,' Sam mused. 'I mean, I know it's not your scene at all-'

'But it could be yours,' Dean interjected.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam frown at this. 'You think so?'

'Could be.'

'You, uh, you want rid of me or something?' Sam asked in what was obviously intended to be an offhand, jokey voice. The fact that his voice shook a little in the middle only gave the game away.

'What? No, of course not,' Dean said quickly. 'I'm not talking about ditching your sorry ass right here and now.'

Sam's face instantly clouded over and when he spoke, his voice was harsh and flat. 'You're talking about when you go to Hell.'

'Sammy-' Dean began but Sam cut him off before he could get any further.

'Don't _Sammy_ me! What are you thinking, Dean, I leave you to get mauled by hellhounds and then just happily skip off into the sunset back to Stars Hollow? Well, I've got news for you, Dean, you aren't going to die and you aren't going to Hell, so you don't need to worry about shipping me off, ok?'

'Sam, listen-' Dean tried again but Sam was on a roll and there was apparently no stopping him.

'Yeah, I know, there's no cure; you're going to die, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah. But even if that happens, which it won't because I'm not going to let that happen, you think I could just move on like that? Just like you were able to move on after I died, you mean, because just look how well that turned out! But it's different for you, right, 'cause Dad brought you back and you shouldn't even be here and all that crap. But how am I any different, Dean? You brought me back and you're paying the price for it. What makes me different that I can just sigh and move on, like this whole thing never happened?'

'Cause you are different!' Dean finally exploded, quickly sticking his oar in before Sam could cut him off again. 'You've always been different, Sam, you know that. You never wanted this, you always wanted to get away. Hell, you _did_ get away until I showed up and dragged you right back in again. At least now, when I'm gone-'

'If,' Sam interrupted.

'When,' Dean gently corrected. 'When. Come on, Sammy, you know it and I know it, man. This is going to happen and when it does, there are other things to do. You've got options, you know?'

Sam attempted to raise a smile. 'Jeez, Dean, you sound like my high school guidance counsellor.'

'Well, that poor son of a bitch, whoever he was, managed to get you to Stanford. There must have been some good in the crap he was spouting.'

'I guess so,' Sam agreed quietly.

'I'm just saying,' Dean continued, keeping his eyes focused on the road in an attempt to retain his composure. 'You can do whatever you want.'

Sam looked more than a little confused but didn't say anything. Dean carried on speaking before his resolve cracked.

'I mean, you could keep hunting if you really wanted to , as long as you found someone to partner up with because you sure as hell aren't going out there by yourself.'

Sam raised his eyebrows. 'Like who?' he asked. 'Jo? It's not me she's got eyes for, Dean. In fact, I don't think she trusts me enough to even be in the same room as her. I've got Meg to thank for that, I guess.'

'Not Jo then,' Dean said dismissively. 'But Bobby or someone.' He paused a second before continuing tentatively with the slightly delicate subject matter. 'Or, you know, you could leave the hunting behind. Retire or whatever.'

Sam gave a brief and totally hollow chuckle. 'Yeah, right. How many times have you told me that nobody ever retires from the job, Dean?'

Dean rolled his eyes. 'Point taken. But, come on, if anyone could, then it would obviously be you, Geek Boy.'

'Wow, Dean, you're making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside,' Sam teased.

Dean attempted a smile. 'Whatever. Just, just, promise me you'll think about it, alright? It's your life and all that crap, but just think about it, ok?'

Sam frowned, obviously disconcerted by Dean's uncharacteristically serious demeanour. 'Alright,' he said quietly. 'Alright.'

Dean nodded, well aware that Sam was looking intently at him and decided a change of subject was needed. He cleared his throat loudly. 'So, I've been itching for a good Wendigo hunt for a while now. What do you say we give Bobby a call. He might know of one.'

'Sounds good,' Sam said quickly, obviously as eager for a change of topic as Dean was.

As Sam dug his cell phone out of his pocket and dialled Bobby's number, Dean glanced sideways at him at the exact instant they crossed the town limit of Stars Hollow. He wasn't entirely sure he'd gotten through to Sam but he'd voiced his thoughts and that was the best he could do, at least for now anyway. When it came to the dreaded eleventh hour, Dean knew he'd have a lot more and probably incredibly desperate thoughts, but he wasn't quite at that point yet. Whether Sam was even taking him seriously or just humouring him to get Dean to shut up, Dean couldn't say.

'Hey, Dean,' Sam said tentatively, sometime later after he'd spoken to Bobby and lined up a hunt in the foreseeable future.

'Yeah?' Dean replied, a little concerned about where this was going.

'I've got an idea. You mind making a stop on the way to Bobby?'

**A/N: So, it's been a while, hasn't it? All I can say is I'm sorry to anyone who's been waiting on an update but real life has been getting the better of me lately. Anyway, here we are, the next to penultimate chapter. Coming soon: the last two chapters, some Rory POV, the long awaited finale and a cameo from one of Stars Hollow's finest. In the meantime, let me know what you think and remember that all reviews, follows and favourites are gladly appreciated. **


	15. Chapter 15

Rory stood on the Dragonfly Inn's front porch, watching Sam and Dean packing up their car. The hour or two or three after her mom and Dean had re-entered the kitchen had been awkward to say the least. Sam had promised they would talk later, though Rory had been well aware he hadn't meant a word of it. He'd somehow managed to avoid her, claiming he had to tidy the upstairs bedrooms the second she'd begun to sort out the trashed front desk. And when Mom had declared that the inn was good to go, aside from the holes in the walls that Luke was going to fix later, Sam had seemingly jumped at the chance to get out as fast as he could. Mom had thanked the both of them, offered a batch of Sookie's leftovers which Dean had vehemently refused for whatever reason, and then waved them off on their merry way. Rory had simply stood beside Lorelai, silently watching them go and wondering just what on earth she was supposed to say. She sort of mumbled a vague, "Thanks, bye," that Sam had returned with a small smile and that was that.

"Funny day, huh?" Lorelai said brightly.

"Funny strange," Rory added distractedly, watching as the Winchester boys closed the trunk of their car and Dean got in behind the wheel. She did notice that Sam simply stood by the passenger side though.

"Definitely funny strange," Lorelai confirmed. "And there I was thinking the weirdest thing that was going to happen today was having oatmeal for breakfast. Looks like I'm not as coco for Coco Puffs as I used to be." Maybe she noticed that Rory wasn't laughing as her hone instantly shifted to one of intense concern. "Hey, kid, how are you holding up?"

"Me? Oh, I'm fine," Rory answered, obviously far too quickly for her mother's liking, if Lorelai suddenly narrowing her eyes was anything to go by.

"Really?" she asked.

"Really," Rory argued.

"Alright then."

"Alright then," Rory repeated, still watching as Sam hovered by the open passenger door. Though she was too far away to see entirely clearly, she guessed that Dean would be getting pretty impatient the longer Sam lingered. Certainly he had given them a brief, unemotional goodbye and slipped off out to his car as soon as the danger had passed. Dean, it seemed, was no great fan of Stars Hollow and that much was plain to see. Rory liked the guy, really she did, but she was under no illusion that she would ever see him again. Sam, though, he could maybe be a different story…maybe? Well, there had to be some reason he was sticking around, right? Maybe Rory was just overanalysing things. It wouldn't be the first time after all. Even still, she turned away from the parking lot.

"Cute guy, huh?" Lorelai said suddenly, startling Rory out of her thoughts.

"I – what?" she answered distractedly.

"Cute guy, huh?" Lorelai repeated slowly. "Beaver sure grew up good, right?"

"Mom!"

"What? I have eyes, don't I?" Lorelai teased. "As do you, young lady, great big heart shaped eyes and fluttering eyelashes pointed right at that young man over there-"

"Okay, Mom, I get the picture," Rory said flatly.

"Pretend FBI agent and Rory sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-"

"Mom!"

"N-G." Lorelai cast a slightly guilty look. "Sorry. Had to be done. But seriously, why don't you at least give the guy your number? Then at least you can sit around for the rest of the weekend waiting for him to call just like the good old days. No better way to reclaim your glory days, I'm telling."

"Good to know."

"Why don't you then?" Lorelai persisted. "What have you got to lose?"

"Gee thanks."

"I'm just saying! You haven't really dated since Logan-"

"Thanks for reminding me," Rory interjected drily.

"The pleasure's all mine. And I just want to remind you that you're the one who turned the proposal down, sweetie, so you shouldn't be moping around and pining after him."

"I'm not pining after anyone," Rory responded quickly, and truthfully. It _was_ true. Did she miss Logan? Of course she did. She'd spent three guys with the guy, hell, she'd seriously considered saying yes and spending the rest of her life with him. But was she pining after him? No. No, she wasn't. She thought of him from time to time, she sincerely hoped he was doing great things with his life, but no, she was not pining after him. But that didn't mean she was just about to go chasing after Sam, and she explained as much to her mom.

"Sure, Meryl, no need to defend your life to me," Lorelai said, holding her hands up in mock surrender.

"Sorry," Rory hastily apologised.

"So, just so I can set the record straight, you absolutely have no interest in not-Dean not-Forrester?" Lorelai asked, because as Rory was very well aware, her mom just didn't know when or where to quit.

"None whatsoever," Rory confirmed, hastily and maybe not entirely truthfully.

"Right. So when the Mystery Machine scoots off into the distance, you'll feel fine?"

"Absolutely, Dr Phil."

"Of course. And if I were to tell you to turn around because-"

Her words were cut off by a loud exclamation of, "What did I tell you?" from across the parking lot and Rory turned round to find the source of the commotion. Instead she found a rather sheepish looking Sam standing at the foot of the porch steps, his face distinctly flushed like he was embarrassed.

"Hi," he said quietly.

"Hi," Rory replied, unable to formulate anything more intelligent or witty.

"Well, this is just riveting," Lorelai declared from over Rory's shoulder. "If you'll excuse me, I'm just heading over here to watch that patch of paint dry."

"Bye, Mom," Rory muttered, watching Lorelai not so discreetly taking herself offside.

"So…" Sam began but trailed off, evidently not knowing what he was supposed to say. Rory was more than well aware of the feeling herself.

"So," Rory repeated, trailing off too before she caught Sam's eye and the two burst into nervous laughter.

"Sorry," Sam said at last, trying to regain a little composure. "That's not how I intended this to go."

"No?"

"No," Sam confirmed. "Definitely not."

"What were you intending?" Rory couldn't help but ask.

"Honestly?" Sam replied sheepishly. "I hadn't really thought much beyond getting out of the car and running like a madman over here."

"Well, you can check that one off the list," Rory quipped.

"Thanks," Sam smiled.

"Anytime, pal, anytime."

Silence fell between the two and Rory knew she ought to fill it. There were things she wanted to say, of course, maybe, but for whatever reason, her brain and mouth didn't seem to be cooperating.

"Okay, well, sorry, I'll go," Sam muttered awkwardly, not quite meeting her eye. "I'll, uh, I'll see you, Rory."

"You know, I meant what I said earlier," Rory said quietly as Sam began to turn away.

"Yeah?" Sam's eyebrows furrowed in obvious confusion. "What was that again?"

"That you should keep in touch. I mean it."

Sam sighed, a loud, heavy sigh that sounded like he had the weight of the entire world resting on his shoulders. And, as Rory reminded herself, he most likely did.

"Thanks," Sam said quietly. "Really."

"I should give you my number," Rory suddenly realised, speaking her thoughts aloud. "That would probably come in useful, right?"

"I guess you're right," Sam smiled.

Rory felt in her pockets for her pen, she had to have one, right? She was a journalist, it more than went with the territory. Christiane Amanpour would never be caught off-guard without a pen –

"You could just put it in my phone if you want," Sam suggested reasonably.

"Yeah. Of course," Rory could feel her face blazing with embarrassment. Why was it, after everything that had happened, that she couldn't just behave like a normal, competent human being in front of this guy? She accepted the cell phone he proffered with slightly trembling fingers and keyed in her number, resolutely not looking him in the eye. _Smooth, Gilmore, real smooth._

"Just like old times," Rory found herself saying. "You know, giving my number out. These days, I do have a business card that I usually give out. I really should have done that. Could have been worse, I guess, I might have written it on your hand. Oh, wait, I don't have a pen…" She trailed off, realising that she was babbling again. "Sorry, I, uh, sorry."

Sam smiled. "You don't need to apologise. Not to me."

"Sam?" Rory asked, a moment or two later, trying her best to sound serious and dignified now.

"Yeah?" Sam answered, sounding a little confused and Rory couldn't exactly blame him.

"You shouldn't be by yourself," she said quietly.

"What?"

"You heard me. After it's all…over with Dean, you shouldn't be alone. You don't have to come see me, not if you don't want to, I totally understand, but don't be by yourself, alright?"

"Alright," Sam said softly. "Alright, I won't."

"And you aren't that good of an actor that you're making this up just to placate me?" Rory persisted.

"Definitely not. My theatre kid got left behind in high school. I can't remember which high school exactly, but that's beside the point."

"Good. You do have other people you can be with, don't you?" she asked.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

Rory smiled, but it felt, and probably looked, extremely forced. "So where do you go from here then?"

Sam shrugged. "Don't know yet. Wherever there's a job I guess."

"You and Dean on the road."

"Thought you didn't like Jack Kerouac?" Sam smirked.

"Nice catch," Rory grinned. "He's no Jane Austen but I don't find him completely terrible."

"Right."

"You know," Rory said casually, trying, and probably failing, to sound casual and offhand. "If you haven't got your next job lined up yet, you could always stay here for a while."

Sam gave a small, sad smile. "Thanks," he said again, "but we have to go. This isn't Dean's thing and I don't want to force him to stay, not if he mightn't have-"

"I understand," Rory said quickly, sparing him the obvious pain of saying it aloud. "Really, Sam, I got it."

"Right. I, uh, I guess I should go then. Dean's waiting in the car," Sam said a little awkwardly.

"Of course," Rory said hurriedly.

"Okay then."

"Okay then," Rory repeated.

And then, Rory wasn't entirely sure how it happened. She went in for a friendly hug, Sam seemed to be opting for a business like handshake but then there was an awkward hand holding, a pseudo sort of hug and then –

They broke apart and Rory, for one, could feel her heart hammering wildly in her chest. She was kind of surprised that nobody else could hear it.

"Wow," she and Sam said at the same time.

"That was quite the goodbye," Rory smiled.

"I didn't mean, that's not what…" Sam hastily tried to clarify. "I wasn't trying to…" he trailed off.

"It's fine," she said in what she hoped was a kindly reassuring tone.

Sam nodded but then took a quick glance over his shoulder, as though checking that his brother's car was still there.

"You need to go, don't you?" Rory said gently, unable to miss how uneasy he was.

"No," Sam said in a would be breezy voice that was fooling absolutely nobody.

"Sam," she said pointedly, raising her eyebrows.

"Alright," he said quickly, looking and sounding incredibly guilty. "I do, but I don't want to just, you know, slip out on you."

Rory laughed. "Sam, you don't need to worry about hurting my feelings. A kiss is just a kiss sometimes; it doesn't have to be anything more than that."

For the smallest fraction of a second, Sam looked like he was about to argue the point and for an instant, Rory was right there with him. She wanted to say that a kiss wasn't just a kiss, not this one at least. In fact, it was the best kiss she'd had in a long time and it didn't matter that he looked just like her old boyfriend or that he'd been dreaming about her life or she'd seen his worst memory or that a poltergeist that turned out to be a demigod had brought them together – okay, maybe it did a little. But that was beside the point, because it didn't matter. He had to go, and they were both only too well aware of this fact. So she didn't say anything. And neither did Sam.

Instead Sam gave another of those sad little smiles; a smile that quite clearly said _isn't this a shame the way things are but they're always going to be this way and so there's no sense in labouring the point._ Or maybe Rory was just overanalysing things again. Maybe like a kiss, a smile was just a smile. A smile from a boy who'd she only met yesterday and was leaving today.

"See you then," Rory said quietly.

"See you then," Sam said, just as quietly, just as sadly. He gave a polite nod, gave a jerky little goodbye wave to Lorelai and then he was gone.

Rory watched him cross the parking lot once again, watched him look over his shoulder one last time, before climbing into the waiting car and taking up his shotgun position. Dean gave them a nod and wave of acknowledgement before starting up the car. It burst into life with a loud rumbling roar that sounded so incongruous and out of place in their quaint little surroundings. And then, just like that, the car pulled out of the parking lot and they were gone. Sam. Dean. All the poltergeists and demigods that had so disrupted anything.

"That's that," Lorelai said from somewhere behind her.

Rory's eyes were still on the parking lot now completely deserted, save for her mom's old jeep. "Can we go home now?"

"Sure, sweetie," Lorelai came to stand beside her and Rory felt her mom's arm around her shoulders, pulling her in tight. "What time is it? I'm beat. Call me a boring old married woman, but I think my days of staying up all night fighting ghosts are well and truly behind me."

"I don't think that makes you old and boring," Rory pointed out. "I think that just makes you normal."

"Damn," Lorelai teased. "That's just what I was afraid of."

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence for a while before Lorelai, quietly and tentatively and most unlike Lorelai, broached the next subject. "Hey," she said gently, pulling Rory in, if possible, even tighter. "You're okay, aren't you? After…after everything, I mean."

Rory frowned a little. "I don't know," she said eventually but her voice was surprisingly firm and steady. "But I will be," she assured Lorelai.

It technically didn't answer the question, nor was it really the answer her mom was ideally looking for, but it was the only one she felt up to giving right now. To her credit, Lorelai didn't labour the point, and while she quickly changed the subject, she kept her arm round Rory's shoulders, silently letting her daughter know that she was here, she'd always be here, and they'd work through this thing together.

"Come on," she said at last, moving her arm to link Rory's and leading her down the steps and towards the car. "Let's go. If you're still hungry, we did order that pizza earlier. I know for a fact that you're not averse to cold pizza that's been sitting out on the doorstep for hours."

"You got me there," Rory attempted a smile. "Cold doorstep pizza it is then."

"I always knew you were a woman after my old heart." Seemingly encouraged by Rory's smile, however, slight, Lorelai began to skip towards the car, pulling Rory along with her. "We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful-" She abruptly cut herself off, looking aghast. "Oh hang on," she suddenly moaned. "Wizards are probably real too. Don't want to tempt fate. I think we've had enough of the supernatural to last a lifetime, don't you?"

Rory thought back to the Trickster wreaking havoc on the inn, to hiding inside a salt circle, to taking a trip through someone else's nightmares to Sam's earnest face and the feel of his lips against hers.

"Yeah," she said, sounding thoroughly unconvinced, even to her own ears. "Yeah, definitely."

**A/N:** **So…it's been a while, hasn't it? All I can do is apologise for the prolonged absence and blame it on that pesky real life getting in the way again. But here we are, the penultimate chapter. I hope everyone enjoys after the long break, and as always, all reviews, follows and favourites are very gladly appreciated!**


	16. Chapter 16

Pulling over to the side of the road, Dean cut the engine and turned to look at Sam. "Well, this is the place. The windy city."

"It's mighty pretty," Sam muttered absently, staring out the passenger window.

"What exactly are we doing here, Sam?" Dean asked, slightly impatiently.

"I already told you on the way over," Sam said, just as absently, still continuing to look out the window at the parked cars and tall, shiny office blocks.

Dean rolled his eyes, mostly for his own benefit since Sam was obviously much too preoccupied to pay him much attention. "Yeah, I know," he said pointedly. "We've had a thirteen-hour drive, with only two stops might I just add, with you telling me why we were coming here."

"Well, then, you should have got the message by now." Sam finally drew his attention away from the window and fixed Dean with his most exasperated expression.

Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes again. "Very funny, genius," he shot back. "Look, I get it, alright? You want to check up on this guy, I understand that, really I do. But what exactly are you going to do here? You're going to give the poor son of a bitch one hell of a heart attack if you just go barging up to him."

"I know!" Sam snapped, a deep tension written plainly all over his face.

"Woah, dude!" Dean held his hands up in surrender and Sam instantly softened, looking guilty and apologetic. "Don't sweat it," Dean said quickly, forestalling his brother's inevitable attempts at unneeded apology. "Man, this whole thing is making you jumpy," Dean frowned. "The sooner we get this whole thing behind us the better."

"This is where he works," Sam muttered vaguely, obviously off on a new train of thought. "I looked it up."

"Yeah, you already told me. That's why I pulled over, remember?" Dean pointed out, quite reasonably in his mind.

"Looks like a nice office, huh?" Sam continued.

Dean followed his brother's line of vision and took in the tall skyscraper; it looked totally nondescript in his frank opinion but who was he to argue with Sam on this one? In light of everything, it was neither the time or the place to pick a stupid fight.

"Sure," Dean said gently. "It looks, uh, great,"

Sam checked his watch. "They wouldn't be finishing up now, would they? Or should we go in and have a look around? You know, get the fed badges out again and make up a case or something?"

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Sammy, listen, this guy's going to be freaked as it is if he gets a glimpse of that mug of yours. You don't want to scare him even more with all the fed get up."

Sam nodded. "I guess you're right."

Dean playfully cuffed him on the shoulder. "Dude, I'm your big brother, you should know by now I'm always right."

Sam attempted a smile. "Now we wait then, I guess."

Dean shrugged. "I guess so." He took a deep gulp of the now tepid coffee they'd picked up on their all too brief pit stop a while back, and shuddered. "Man, we should have picked up some more of that coffee from that guy Luke's place," he commented.

"Good, huh?" Sam's smile looked at least a little genuine now.

"You're telling me. Good burgers too. Lorelai's a lucky woman."

Sam actually let out an honest to God laugh at that one, which lightened Dean's spirits if only momentarily. It wasn't a sound he got to hear or enjoy very much at all these days, and how many more opportunities would he get before – before it all went down?

"Whatever you say, Dean," Sam chuckled, settling back and actually looking a little relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever.

Dean was just about to comment on that very fact when something across the street caught his eye, and even after everything he knew about this guy, it damn near took his breath away.

"Sam," he said at once, his voice quiet but urgent. "I'm willing to bet my car that that's our guy over there."

He pointed out Sam's window to the young man now leaving the office building. Even from across the street, there could be no mistake. Dean would recognise that floppy hair anywhere, even if it wasn't technically his brother. The fact that he towered head and shoulders above the other passers-by on the street only helped matters even further.

"That's him," Sam confirmed and all at once, he had tensed right back up again, his face visibly paler and his voice quiet. "This is weird, man. It was already weird -"

"I'll say," Dean interjected.

"But seeing him, "Sam continued like there had been no interruption. "I don't know, like he's actually real. He's got this whole life, this whole, real life."

Dean squinted through the windshield to get a better look at Sam's doppelganger as he joined a queue of people lined up at a nearby coffee cart.

"He looks fine to me," Dean assessed. "He could do with a good hair cut though, but I mean, so could you."

"Dean."

"What? I'm just telling it like it is, Sammy. He looks fine. He's got a job, he can afford to buy overpriced coffee, he's living the American Dream. Are you happy now? Bobby's expecting us and it's at least eight hours back to Sioux Falls from here."

"Not the way you drive," Sam quipped but he was closely watching his double across the street and didn't quite appear ready to move on just yet.

Dean sighed. Really he ought to have known that Sam wouldn't be content with just a brief glimpse of the guy who could be his identical twin. Even though they'd had the good fortune – and when did that ever happen to them? – to come across the guy on his afternoon coffee break, without having to burst into his office, Sam still wasn't entirely at ease. Dean couldn't help but sigh again, louder this time for greater effect. Of course it was going to come to this. How could it not, when all was said and done?

"You want me to go over and scout the guy out?" he asked, knowing exactly what the answer would be even before he'd finished speaking.

"Would you?" Sam replied at once, almost painfully earnest and of course there wasn't a snowball's chance that Dean could refuse him.

_What wouldn't I, haven't I, done for you, kid?_

"Yeah, why not?" Dean said breezily. "You want anything while I'm over there? It's a frappe – mocha – cino, right?"

"Just hurry, would you? You're going to miss him if you don't get a move on."

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, I'm going," Dean said hastily because Sam was right and the other Dean was moving steadily up the line.

"Classy as ever, Dean," Sam muttered.

"You know me, kid," Dean grinned, climbing out of the car and closing the door behind him.

After a quick glance in both directions, Dean jogged across the street and quickly joined the end of the coffee line, right behind the man of the moment himself; Dean Forrester in the flesh and very much larger than life. Dean wondered exactly what Sam expected him to say to the guy. If Sam had his way, the guy would have to produce a detailed profile on his life, bank statements and medical records included, just to prove that he really was doing okay. Somehow, Dean had the feeling that that wouldn't go down too well. No, he'd have to be discreet, offhand, casual. And Dean was more than up to such a task.

"Looks like good coffee here," Dean commented lightly, hoping to attract the other Dean's attention and that he wouldn't just be ignored as the overly chatty guy in the coffee line.

Other Dean didn't dismiss hi, - of course he didn't, the kid had grown up in Stars Hollow where everybody was best friends with everybody else. Dean Forrester turned around to speak with him properly and Dean was faced with the very strange situation of seeing someone who could very well be his little brother, and even when he spoke, it could have been Sammy's voice. The weirdness of everything they'd faced back in Stars Hollow really had nothing on this freak show right how.

Dean Forrester chuckled. "It's not bad," he admitted genially, fishing his wallet from the pocket of his suit jacket. "Staring at a computer all day, you need something to keep you awake, right?"

"Right," Dean nodded in agreement like he too had first-hand experience of being a pencil pusher in some big city office. "Right. You work in that building there?" He indicated the building they'd seen the guy exiting, the one Sam had looked up and knew to be the guy's place of work.

Other Dean nodded, shuffling up a little as the line moved forward. If he was put off or annoyed by Dean's not so innocuous questioning, then he did a great job of hiding it. He nodded, and sounded friendly, not like he was being harassed by an overly inquisitive stranger on the street. "There? Oh yeah. Nice place Good people to work for, you know?"

"Sure," Dean nodded knowledgably again. "It's a, uh, sales company, right?" He wanted to keep the guy talking, get as much information from him as possible to feed back to Sammy and put his brother's mind at ease.

Other Dean smiled again. "Sorry, buddy, it's a construction company. I'm guessing you're not from around here, huh?"

"Guilty as charged," Dean smiled. "We're just passing through, my brother and me."

"You guys on a road trip or something?" He looked and sounded genuinely interested, even as he moved closer to the top of the line. "Sweet."

"Yeah, yeah, something like that."

Despite his obviously sparkling and conversation skills, Dean couldn't delay the inevitable and all too soon, Dean Forrester had reached the top of the line. He gave the order for two fancy coffees – two coffees? Office work must really be boring – that Dean couldn't even pronounce but that Sam would undoubtedly enjoy. Other Dean was just looking through his wallet for change when Dean stepped forward, pulling a ten-dollar bill from his jeans pocket and placing it down on the counter.

"Hey, buddy, this one's on me, alright?"

Other Dean's smile slipped for the first time and he frowned a little, though this was clearly out of confusion rather than anything more sinister. "What?" he asked, while the kid behind the counter, also staring confusedly at the pair of them, set down the two steaming coffees.

"What can I say? You caught me in a generous mood."

"I'll say, but I'm getting coffee for my girlfriend too, so I can't let you front that," Other Dean protested.

_A girlfriend? Sammy's going to have a field day over that one._

"Ten bucks should more than cover it, right?" Dean persisted. "And you can keep the change," he added to the barista kid who nodded eagerly. What the hell; in for an inch, might as well give the whole damn mile.

"Uh, yeah." Other Dean now just looked pleasantly surprised. "Yeah. Thanks, man."

"Don't sweat it. Just, uh, just take care of yourself, okay?"

Other Dean collected the two cups and regarded him with a mixture of wry bemusement and gratitude. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I will. You too, man. Thanks again."

Dean Forrester finally moved away, shaking his head slightly at the random act of kindness that had probably made his damn day. Dean himself ordered two nondescript coffees for himself and Sam, but he was barely aware of what he was doing. Slapping down another crumpled bill, the kid had probably never received such a big tip in his life, Dean took his two polystyrene cups and moved a little to the side. Under the pretence of adding sugar – or rather sweetener because Samantha was watching her figure – he instead watched Other Dean walking back into the office building. He seemed like a nice enough kid, Dean surmised, friendly. He seemed like he had a good job, he had a girlfriend. Sam would be thrilled, he had no doubt. He was just about to leave, to go back to the car and relay all this information when something, someone rather, else caught his attention. It was like seeing a ghost, like seeing two ghosts almost.

He couldn't see entirely clearly through the distorted glass doors of the office building but he definitely saw a young woman with long blond hair coming to meet Dean Forrester. He saw her taking one of the cups, saw her wrap an arm round Other Dean's waist, saw him place an arm round her shoulders, and they walked away, presumably back to their desks. That had to be his girlfriend, then. And, damn it, looking at the two of them now, Dean could have been looking right at Sam and Jess. In a different world, a different life, it might have been Sam and Jess, grown up and happy and successful and very much alive and well. Not the college kids whose Palo Alto apartment Dean himself had broken into way back on that fateful night, but what could have been if things hadn't gone down in the terrible way that they had. Dean wasn't entirely sure what he was feeling as the two figures finally disappeared from view. It certainly was bittersweet to see this guy, this guy with Sam's face and Dean's name, with this girl who could be Jessica. It was a reminder of everything Sam might have had, could have had, but also an indication of everything he might have again in the future. He wondered what Sam's reaction would have been had he seen these two for himself. Would he be reminded of terrible, painful memories or could he just be happy for this other guy whom, really, he shouldn't have known from Adam? It was a difficult one alright.

Dean signed heavily as he once again crossed the street and headed back to the Impala where Sam would be eagerly waiting for updates. He couldn't wait to put this whole case behind them and he was more than ready to throw himself into whatever case Bobby had waiting for them. Dean had a feeling, however, that it wouldn't be so simple, because when were things ever so simple and straightforward for them? The presumed poltergeist job at the Dragonfly Inn had more than proved that particular theory, as though it had ever needed proving. Dean had the feeling that the image of the two figures, the reflection of Sam's past and his future if he would only allow it, would continue to haunt him in the coming weeks. Try as he might, Dean knew that he just wouldn't be able to shake it.

"Well?" Sam asked, the second Dean had opened the driver's door and settled back in behind the wheel. He'd been slouched down in his own seat so that Dean, or indeed _Dean_ for that matter, would see him. "Did you talk to him? What did he say?"

"Woah, Sam, don't forget to take a breath," Dean replied, handing over a cup of coffee. "Here. Take this, and let me do the talking, alright?"

Sam accepted the cup but still continued to look expectantly at Dean, who rolled his eyes.

"Sammy," he said gently, the tone surprising Sammy a little. "Listen, he's fine, alright? Quit worrying."

"He is?" Sam asked at once.

Dean nodded, taking a gulp of his own coffee. "Absolutely fine and Jim Dandy. He spoke to me and didn't ignore the guy who likes to overshare in the coffee line, like any sane person would have done." He broke off to share a brief smile with Sam. "He seems like a good kid. He said he likes his job; he's got a good looking girl-"

"He does?" Sam couldn't help but interject.

Dean nodded again. "Yeah. All's well in Other Dean's Bizarro World. He's happy, man, I'm telling you."

"Good. I'm glad." And Sam honestly was. He was glad that this guy who'd existed on the periphery of the whole case hadn't been dragged into it, and was blissfully ignorant of everything that had gone down the night before in his old time. Sam had said it before, but Dean Forrester was a good kid when all was said and done. He'd been young and made some stupid mistakes, Sam himself could identify at least, but things appeared to be working in his favour now. It was good to see, really it was.

Dean regarded him with a somewhat strange expression. "What?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "Nothing. It's – uh – nothing." He cleared his throat and when he spoke again, it was in his usual tone, firm and assured, but Sam couldn't help but wonder what he'd been thinking and perhaps what he'd really wanted to say. "What do you say, Sammy, you about ready to blow this popsicle stand?"

"Yeah," Sam said quickly, maybe a shade too quickly but Dean didn't comment on it. "Yeah, let's get out of here."

Sam didn't look back as Dean started up the car and pulled back out onto the road. He didn't look back at the towering office block, just as he hadn't looked back at the Dragonfly Inn.

"You sure you're okay?" Dean asked, watching him a little warily out of the corner of his eye.

"I will be," Sam answered after only a moment or two of hesitation. He wasn't sure that it was entirely truthful, or if it was even the answer Dean was looking for, but what else was he supposed to say? They had other, much more pressing matters at hand, hell, Sam only had a couple of weeks to get Dean out of his deal. That had to be his priority now. Everything else would just have to take a back seat until he could be totally sure that Dean was safe. And Sam was more than fine with that, really.

Dean accepted Sam's answer, despite the inaccuracy of it with a silent, understanding nod and nudged Sam in the side, which communicated a hell of a lot more than any amount of words could to Sam. It meant that Dean was here, that he'd listen despite his professed hatred for caring and sharing, that he'd do everything in his power to fix things. Sam knew all that without Dean ever having it say any of it out loud.

"Come on," Sam said gently. "Bobby's waiting for us."

**A/N:** **And now, the end is here and I can't believe it! I started this story over a year ago now and it really took on a life of its own. I never expected it to be this long, and I certainly didn't expect the amount of interest I've received in this story. I have very much enjoyed getting to explore two of my favourite fictional worlds and characters in one sitting. Thank you to everyone who has been so kind as to read, comment, follow and favourite, it really is very gladly appreciated. I hope everyone continues to do so as we while away the long waits for Season 12 of Supernatural and the Netflix revival Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life! **


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